When Push comes to tumble
by Kermitfries
Summary: It started with a fight for survival. Now the survivors have returned home can they build their mansion over the reckage of their lives, or will they succumb to the freight that is always hovering above them?
1. Static

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for my own people.

Summary - There are several other inhabitants on this unidentifiable island. Uncivilized inhabitants who don't take kindly to intruders. When push comes to shove one of the ten survivors will have to sacrifice themselves for the better of the team.

It's been two months since their plane crashed and the survivors figured they were doing pretty well, considering their given circumstances. There had been some distruptions amongst the students, but that was expected given their particular backgrounds. There had been a few fights between the students but nothing too bad, nothing lasting. Jackson had overcome his differences with Nathan, Daley and Taylor eventually came to an agreement. Despite the easy flow of the group, Melissa still detested Eric as much as possible, but not too much. When it came down to it, the group was almost like a family, forced to depend on each other every day. Eric eventually came to terms with the work he had to do (lugging water) and eventually stopped trying to avoid it. Daley tried her hardest not to be so demanding, so controlling, but sometimes it didn't quite work. Things had been real smooth lately.

Then they heard the music. It was pretty much the basic tribal music, with bongos and distant shouting. Lex speculated the obvious, what the others figured it was too, a distant tribe that had rituals with music and dancing. They probably didn't hear the tribe before because the rituals were months in between each other. Lex assumed the tribes were probably natives who were unaware of the rest of the world, uneducated and unaware of the English language. Perhaps they weren't the worst, though. Although they would be uneducated in the art of everything in the modern world, they would also be uneducated in the art of malice and spite.

"What do we do? What do we do?" Taylor asked loudly as the group assembled around the fire the second night of the rituals.

"Nothing," Jackson answered, leaning back against a log that Melissa was seated on. "They haven't noticed us in two months - chances are they aren't gonna notice us at all."

"And if they do?" Nathan asked. "We can't fight anyone. We'll die."

"Calm down," Jackson replied calmly. "We're not going to die. We've been here for two months. They've been here a lot longer. Chances are they've already scouted the island and taken up residence somewhere away from here. They probably won't centure out this far anyway. They haven't in the past two months."

"What if they have and we just like didn't see them?" Taylor asked.

Jackson breathed deeply. "Well then they already know about us and they can kill us at their leisure." Jackson grinned at Taylors sharp intake of breath and Eric's shout of of protest. "If they were planning on killing us then they would have by now, right? Yes. Now just forget about them and go back to bed." Jackson cut off Taylor and Eric's protestes with a single stare. "I'm serious. Forget about them."

"At least until they come to kill us," Lex added.


	2. Impulse

Despite what Jackson had told the others to do, he could not fall asleep. When he was younger, right after he was taken away from his parents, he was tramatized by nightmares. This mere act of terrible dreams had even scared a fear foster parents away. These parents wanted the children but they absolutely refused to put any work into the child, they rejected all problems. All children experienced nighmares, but Jackson's were different. Scary movies and problematic events did not tramatized him at night. It was one single event that seemed to haunt him for years afterwards.

Everyone has heard of slavery, but before Jackson's twelfth's birthday he hadn't ever seen it so closely before. As a present, his foster parents took him out of the county, somewhere exotic. They were his first and last rich foster parents. They were also far above him on the social ladder. They were prejudice and stuck up but Jackson tried not to make a showing of it. But what it found was slavery. He saw human cruelty like never before. His foster parents didn't seem to mind, but the images he saw there blinded him for years to come. These images now replayed in front of his eyes as he attempted to sleep. The slaves were once a part of a tribe, a family.

Then there was a shout of surprise that sounded an awful lot like Melissa. Jackson was on his feet and out of the tent before he could give the situation a thought. Melissa was on the ground a few feet to the right, a dark skinned man hovering over her. A single thought entered Jackson's mind.

We should have prepared.


	3. capture

Jackson reached into the tent, searching furiously for the only thing he'd ever held close, a wooden club. It had taken nearly two month, ever since the crash, but he had finally crafted the thick stick into something that resembled a club. He'd estimated five, maybe six tribes men, none armed with anything. They were skinny, wearing scanty clothes and bone jewlery. Bones from animals - or other things - they killed.

Jackson didn't slow down to think because somewhere deep in the folds of his mind he knew that hesitation would ultimately be his demise. He lunged forward, ramming into the closest tribes man. When the tribes man went down he roughly grabbed Melissa to her feet. "Get the others out of her." She hesitated. He shoot her. "Hesitation kills," he shouted. He turned her and shoved her gently. "Please, run." This seemed to do the trick because Melissa took off running toward Daley and Nathan who were in a struggle with another tribesman. Jackson grinned grimly as Melissa knocked the tribes man down and the three took off running. Jackson gave a shout as his ankle was seized and he was pulled to the ground.

Jackson kicked out hard, catching the man in the chin and scrambled quickly to his feet. He took off sprinted a few feet forward, where two tribesmen had Taylor on the ground and another two had Eric pinned. Jack lifted his club and swung hard at one of the tribesmen holding Taylor. He fell harmlessly off of Taylor, the other tribesman turning just in time for Jackson to hit him square in the face with his club.

The tribesmen holding Eric released him and charged at Jackson. Jackson managed to dodge one but the other caught him and tackled him straight to the the ground. Eric didn't stay around for the aftermath, heading for the forest, picking Lex up on the way but Taylor seemed to hesitate. "Go," Jackson grunted, attempting to buck one of the three tribesmen off of him. After a moment of deliberation Taylor obeyed him and sprinted after Eric.

Pain exploded in Jackson's chest and then blossomed as punches rained down on him. Eventually his struggling became frutil and the pain became too overwhelming. And then everything faded to black.


	4. Balthazar

"We should have stayed." Melissa sighed loudly, curling up into a ball. "We shouldn't have left him."

"If we had stayed, his sacrifice would have been in vain," Daley replied quietly. She too felt guilty about leaving Jackson in his time of need, but he had been making a sacrifice and if they didn't leave then they'd all have been caught and probably killed because no one would be free to save them. Six rescuers were better than none. They had to hide, lay low, until an opportune moment presented itself. Or until they found one.

"What if they kill Jackson," Melissa mumbled. "We'll all be lost. We need him. He shouldn't have to need us."

"He needs us now, Mel," Nathan murmured. "We aren't going to let him down. Not like this. We just need to lay low right now until we can figure out a way to save him from them."

"Better sooner than later," Lex stated. "We have to find out what they want with Jackson - with all of us before they can follow through with their plans."

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Jackson blinked hard. He'd read books about how prisoners woke up in shining light, blinded by the light. But it took him a few minutes to adjust his eyes to the darkness. He was in a wooden cage a few feet above the ground. There were six empty cages in a circle beside him. This had al been planned. He had been wrong. Jackson straighted up in the cage, pulling himself into a sitting position, leaning heavily against the wooden bars. Wincing he lifted up his shirt. His chest and abdoment were covered in deep bruises, and he felt the dry blood on his face crack more with each wince.

There were several tribes men surrounding the cages, working dutifully but none paid him any attention. Jackson winced, dabbing at a deep cut along his hair line. Then he noticed the chief, a man much bigger and much more glorius than the other men. He was approaching Jackson and he was armed with a hand made spear.

"Are you from Great Britain?" the chief asked in broken English.

"No," Jackson answered quietly. "I'm from America." The man lifted an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. "It's a new continent," Jackson explained. "Citizens of England settled in America and set up the continent for the future, I guess. I am not British. I am American."

"Where is America?" the chief asked.

Jackson shrugged. "I don't know. It's over by Scandinavia. But I don't know where it is from here. If I did maybe I wouldn't be here anymore."

The chief nodded slowly. "You and your people - you Americans - you are intruders. Trespassing is...illegal here."

"We didn't know," Jackson answered quickly. "We don't even want to be here. But our plane crushed on the beaches of this island. We've been trying to leave but...land is too far to swim..."

"You will stand trial, and you will be persecuted. And then you'll be offered to Balthazar as a sacrifice," the chief informed Jackson quietly.

"Balthazar?" Jackson asked slowly.

"You Americans are uneducated in the works of the mighty Balthazar?" The chief demanded, raising his voice. "What is this nonsense?"

"Well, you see, us Americans are educated in a thing called intelligence." Jackson figured he was already lost, so no holding back. "For the better part, we believe in a thing we call science. Nobody created us. It was an accident in evolution."

The chief scowled. "I hope Balthazar is not so merciful with you." Then the chief turned around and stomped off.


	5. compliance

"You will contribute to Balthazar," a tribesman informed Jackson. Jackson leaned back heavy against the wooden bars encaging him. "your contributions will be in more than jure bone and blood, it will also be in sweat and trials."

"I'm not doing anything for you people," Jackson responded calmly, lacing his fingers, supporting his arms on his scuffed knees. "I refuse."

"Do you think this is a choice?" The tribesman looked appalled. "You obey, you become work boy, you remain a living for as long as possible for you. Do you comply?"

Jackson narrowed his eyes, resisting the inevitable. He was human - he didn't want to die. But why comply when they were just going to kill him anyway? "Fine." he didn't want to die. Time meant opportunity. Opportunity to escape - to not die.

When the tribesman unlatched the cage Jackson slowly slid out. The tribesman moved to quick for Jackson to resist and shackled his arms in front of him. He had to be restrained but able to work as well.


	6. Games

Author note - Yes I know the chapters are short - sorry. I was in a hurry, I guess. I actually did try combining all of these chapters into maybe two chapters, but it was on another computer and then I realized I didn't have internet...so...don't worry. My chapters are gonna get totally longer, I just wanted to get these chapters out there. the last one sucked, I know. It looked like it was only a hundred words or something.

Also I will try to update as often as possible, but y'know how it is when you run out of ideas and you want to keep updating because you'd want it to be updated if you were a reader, but then you don't want to sound cheesy or rushed. You want the story to be good, y'know. But anyways. I do like the whole Jackson and Melissa grouping. I like Taylor just fine, but y'know. I'm not gonna make any of them jerks, because the show doesn't...they're all pretty decent. There will be a huge twist coming up there so don't worry, Jackson won't be a 'slave' forever.

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Jackson heaved the barrell of water up, grinding his teeth against the absurd weight. He slowly began to pour the water into the large basin the chief used as a bath. Jackson couldn't even begin to guess what chump usually poured the chief's bath water, but it was gruesome work. He had to lug the water from the ocean to the fire and heat it up and then lug it all the way up the hill and pour it into the chief's basin. And then he had to start over again. He was forced to do this five or six times and his arms and legs were throbbing. He felt ready to pass out. Maybe he should have chosen death.

"That is enough water," the chief said relunctantly. Jackson grunted, letting the barrell fall to the ground but resisting the urge to pass out as well. The chief hadn't been so kind after Jackson insulted Balthazar, but in truth, it wasn't just science that prevented him from believing in any form of god.

He lived with his parents for ten years of his life. It wasn't an ideal environment but the most normal and wholesome thing they ever did was attend church. Despite the neighborhood they lived in, everybody seemed to put aside time to visit church. It was rediculous. But Jackson was pretty much into it. Until his parents got divorce. his mother had been this huge christian, and drug addict, and his father just put up with her for reasons Jackson still didn't know. His mother ended up dying. As it turned out, she died all dressed up, all ready to go visit God. Jackson still couldn't get over the irony. Sure, evolution and atoms and whatever were very logical, but maybe if his mother hadn't died he would have actually been a christian and all the more nicer and sociable. Of course, if he was a Christian, he would have been ruder to the chief about his Balthazar.

"You, American, will be my representative in the games that will take part in the ritual ceremony," the chief informed a sweaty Jackson.

"What games?" Jackson panted.

"There are many games - many trials that occur for the sake of pleasing Balthazar. He will dictate what games young Americans partake in." Chief turned his head slightly, staring Jackson down.

"Balthazar will be..attending your games?" Jackson asked.

"Balthazar attends everything," the chief replied.

"In person? Like actually there?" Jackson pressed. He was sure if the chief meant in spirit or in the trees or in possession of a tribesmen. Religious people were weird.

"Yes," the chief man answered, agitated. "He will be the judge of all games. You will finally be at his mercy."

"When does he kill me?" Jackson asked bluntly.

"Tomorrow night," the chief answered but he didn't seem very upset about it. "Go prepare for the games, American."

"And if I don't, you'll what? Kill me?" Jackson pressed.

"There are worst things than death. Has America not learned that yet?" the chief asked. Was he mocking Jackson? "We will not kill you, not until Balthazar deems it time. But there will be great punishments. You will prey for death long before it is time. Go prepare for the games, American."

Jackson grunted again, walking away. He hated being backed into this corner, he hated not dictating his life. Sure, he was pretty much forced into foster care, but that was different. He was still himself there. He still controlled how they treated him, he still reacted to their treatments how he had wanted to. Now he had no choice. He wasn't an athlete. What would the chief do if he lost?

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"That is a huge camp," Taylor exclaimed. "Why can't we have a camp like that?"

"Because we've been here for two months, not forever," Nathan replied dryly. "And there's seven of us and probably at least a hundred of them. And they have a leader. And -"

"It was a rhetorical question, Nathan," Daley told him gently. "How are we going to get to Jackson?"

"Better question - how are we gonna smuggle him out without totally dying?" Eric asked.

"How long do we have until it's too late?" Nathan asked.

"We probably have until tomorrow, at least," Lex answered quickly before anyone else could asked another question. He pointed. "Those are games. And they're being set up. These are ancient tribes, I don't think they set up games just for fun. They're probably still doing their rituals and they're probably doing games today."

"Games?" Eric repeated.

"Ancient Greece and Rome used to do it," Lex answered. "It's a sort of trial, to show to you God, or whoever that you're willing to do anything to win for them."

"Oh, no," Melissa said. "What if they make Jackson participate?" She took a deep breath. "He's not a team player, Nathan."

"It's not standard precedure to make prisoners participate in holy games," Lex reasoned.

"Unless of course they're being sacrificed, right," Eric asked. Melissa and Nathan switched worried glances.

"why else would they want Jackson?" Nathan asked loudly.

"Why else would they wait so long to take him -- to take us. It's for the rituals!" Daley agreed.


	7. exhaustion

Author's note - thanks for the reviews. I forgot how inspirational they can be. It's weird, Fanfic is the only place I'd ever 'publish' my writings. Sorry I singled Jackson out but y'know by watching the show, when you say sacrifice, Jackson comes to mind. It's adorable. Don't worry, he won't be a prisoner for long. Things will escalate and another member will succumb to capture, but it won't be by the tribe this time. Dun dun dunnnnn. I'm making it up as I go, but Iike it, so I hope everybody else does too. Enjoy. I'll try to make the next chapters longer but I'm very imaptient. I like updating. Which is a good thing for ya'll.

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"Hey, can you see that?" melissa asked Nathan squinting hard down at the Tribes camp. The group was lying on a cliff that over hung the camp, secluded by the tall, unkept grass. There was a crowd down below, but Jackson in his modern clothing stood out quite well.

"What are they doing?" Nathan asked, squinting hard.

"It looks like they're getting ready for a -"

"It's a race," Lex cut in. "It's the first trial. Jackson can't -"

"He ran pretty fast at the mazeathon," Daley murmured.

"Yeah, but that was to prove a point," Nathan mumbled.

"When you're not inspired you don't try as hard," Daley agreed.

"Aw, Nathan, you inspire Jackson. That's adorable," Eric chimmed in a sing song voice. Nathan flashed Eric a look.

"We should come up with a plan, so there's no hesitation tomorrow," Melissa said. "Hesitation kills."

"I agree," Lex replied.

"So how do we get in, free Jackson, and get back out without forfeiting our lives?" daley asked the group.

"We have to know the lay out of the camp and how many people there are. It'd help to know where these men are positioned, where the chief is positioned - when their guards change...if they have guards. Where they keep Jackson and -"

"Okay, we get the point Einstein," Eric interrupted.

"First, how many people are there?" Nathan stated.

Each of the team squinted down at the camp. "Whew, look at that yoda run," Eric murmured. Evidently Jackson had been motivated because he put more effort into the race than he had put into the mazeathon. "Ah, he almost had that."

"He was tripped," Melissa gasped.

"Yeah," Taylor agreed, just as indignant. "Those dirty tribes people."

"Hey, what would happen if he lost all the 'games'?" Eric asked, staring particularly at Lex.

"I don't know," Lex answered honestly. "He could be killed but then they wouldn't have any other sacrifice, right? Besides one of their own."

"And if that was the case then I doubt they'd be working on sabotage, right? They'd just let him win," Daley murmured, watching Jackson led back to his 'cage' in shackles.

"Well that's where they're keeping him," Nathan said, pointing at a cage in the middle of the camp - it wasn't too far from the entrance. "Maybe we can just barrell in there and free him. Maybe we can just bolt afterwards."

"That'd never work," Eric said almost immediately.

"It's too risky, Nathan," Lex agreed. "Stealth is probably our best choice, right now."

"But how can we be stealth when they're always around?" Daley asked.

Lex was really beginning to think the team was starting to appreciate him. They asked him directly more often, they had actually begun to listen. "Maybe they let down their guard at night."

"Hey, how come they set up more games but they've already taken Jackson to that cage?" Taylor asked.

"I dunno," Daley murmured what the group was thinking.

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"Balthazar would like to speak to the American failure," the chief informed Jackson. Jackson glanced away from the chief and noticed that every tribesmen were on their knees, bowing deeply.

"Cody Jackson," a deep voice grunted from behind the chief. Jackson jerked his head up. "Time you meet your maker."

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Interesting facts that has nothing to do with Flight 29 dwn, but with humans.

- had neanderthal birth rate been two percent higher, or their death rate been 2 percent lower -- they could've actually survived till today, despite their inability to adapt quickly.

- Grooming united Neanderthal tribes and aided them in survival.

- Neanderthal and modern man were not similar enough to be considered the same species but they were similar enough to produce offspring. Whether the offspring was fertile is still unknown. (because when species mix they might produce offspring- like the donkey and the liger, but those offspring cannot produce their own offspring)

- a skeleton was found that has the bones of a Neanderthal but the DNA and inner organs of modern man -- but the reporduction didn't help the Neanderthal's fate - their genes are nonexistent in modern man.


	8. Pain

Author's note - Sorry, i fell asleep for half the day, so this chapter's short, I just wanted to get on in today.

"You're Balthazar?" Jackson asked loudly, lurching forward as far as the cage would allow. "Rodney," he growled. "You knew I was here all along and fed them with these lies of how you'll --"

"Do not speak to Balthazar in such respect," Rodney interrupted. "I think some punishment is finally in order." Rodney nodded towards the chief. "Chief," he murmured.

The chief strode forward and unlocked the cage but as soon as he'd stepped back Jackson sprang forward, tackling Rodney to the ground. Jackson got off a few punches before the closest tribesmen could pull him roughly to his feet. Rodney was helped to his feet as well and given a towel to wipe his bloody nose.

"Son of a bitch," Rodney shouted, dabbing delicately at his nose. "Take off your shirt, Cody," Rodney commanded.

Jackson almost felt obligated to comply, too used to his brother's demanding voice. But he stopped himself. "I'm not making this easier for you, Rodney," Jackson murmured softly.

A sly grin passed briefly over Rodney's features. He reached forward and roughly turned Jackson around, shoving his arms forward, so they would clutching the cage bars. Two tribesmen held Jackson's hands tightly to the bar and Rodney proceeded to tear the shirt roughly from Jackson's back. He dropped the ruined cloth off to the side.

"This is something the old man should've done to you years ago, before you got out of control," Rodney told Jackson taking a thick whip from the chief. With the grin in place, he lifted his whip and brought it down hard across Jackson's back.

Jackson had experienced a wide range of pain, but he'd never been whipped with an actual whip before, and never with such force. Rodney was relentless. Jackson didn't attempt to hide his pain and a loud cry escaped him, but the tribesmen continued to hold his arms, forcing him against the cage.

Rodney's grin widened as he cocked back his arm and swung hard again. Another cry was torn from Jackson and he swallowed tears. The wind was harsh against the fresh cuts that now splayed across his back, Rodney lent forward, massaging Jackson's should with his free hand. "Remember this, Cody. Remember I hold the whip." He then backed up and took another hit at Jackson's back. Jackson's throat had gone raw with his screams but now tears were edging at the sides of his eyes.

With two more swings at Jackson's back Rodney was done and he handed the whip back to the chief. "He will make his sacrifice to me in private, faithful follower. He will reap the sorrow of disbelief."

The chief nodded and stepped aside. Rodney grabbed Jackson hard and pratically dragged him out of the camp. Directly outside the camp Rodney was met with three fellow men and they had someone in between them. Jackson glanced up, using excessive strength to raise his eyes from the ground and then he felt like collapsing. The men had Melissa.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed, knowing that a little bit of his sacrifice had become suddenly useless.

"And who is this, Cody?" Rodney asked, pulling Jackson into an upright position.

"Go to hell," Jackson mumbled. Rodney pushed him hard and he landed hard on his kness, hunched over on the ground. Melissa immediately rushed to his side. "I'm sorry," Jackson whispered to Melissa.

"For what?" Melissa asked quietly.

"This is my fault," Jackson admitted.

"What do you mean?" Melissa asked.

"He stole my money," Rodney answered her. "That's what he means. Your death will be his fault."


	9. Lost

Author's note - I'm not sure if I'm gonna update as frequantly because I wanna start a smallville story. But don't worry, I'm not gonna let this story sit for weeks - just don't expect an update every day now, y'know.

"Where's Melissa?" Daley asked immediately after Nathan and Eric returned from the woods. They were supposed to separate and search the land, see if there were any more settlers, but Nathan, Eric and Melissa had gotten separated and when they finally united, they realized Melissa was gone.

Nathan and Eric shared an apprehensive glance. "I dunno, Daley," Nathan finally murmured. "She kinda disappeared."

"She what?" Daley asked loudly.

"Shhh," Eric shushed. "Don't want the killing natives to hear us, remember?"

"This is why we sent you out as a team, how do you just lose her?" Daley asked, stepping briskly towards Nathan.

Nathan instinctively backed up. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"It's not like we ditched her, Daley," Eric stepped in. "She took off."

"You don't look too good," Melissa murmured, gripping Jackson's arm, tightly. She was supposed to be supporting him, sort of, but she had to touch him more so out of comfort than anything else.

"He never does, though, does he?" Rodney asked conversationally. "Now, Cody, where is my money?"

Jackson seemed to hesitate. He shared a tensed look with Melissa, sure of the outcome if he denied his brother. Growing up Rodney hadn't been as heartless as he seemed to be here. He was somewhat protective and self-righteous. Jackson could name numerous times Rodney suffered grueling fights on Jackson's behalf or anybody's behalf, really. Rodney had been a nice guy. Then Jackson was taken away and Rodney was left alone. Before then Jackson hadn't really considered himself as an influence on his brother, but he soon realized that he was the only one keeping Rodney grounded in reality and care. Without Jackson Rodney needed to fall back on something. That something was a gang.

"I buried it," Jackson murmured slowly.

"Well lead on brother," Rodney responded gleefully.

Jackson figured that's what had disconnected himself from his brother and he couldn't really even say why he did but. He had taken half of what his brother had stashed. What his brother had stolen. Jackson had just wanted insurance, really. He didn't know his brother would fly to some exotic island just to track down 500 dollars in cash.


	10. found

Author's note - I'm not sure if I'm gonna update as frequantly because I wanna start a smallville story. But don't worry, I'm not gonna let this story sit for weeks - just don't expect an update every day now, y'know.  
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"Where's Melissa?" Daley asked immediately after Nathan and Eric returned from the woods. They were supposed to separate and search the land, see if there were any more settlers, but Nathan, Eric and Melissa had gotten separated and when they finally united, they realized Melissa was gone.

Nathan and Eric shared an apprehensive glance. "I dunno, Daley," Nathan finally murmured. "She kinda disappeared."

"She what?" Daley asked loudly.

"Shhh," Eric shushed. "Don't want the killing natives to hear us, remember?"

"This is why we sent you out as a team, how do you just lose her?" Daley asked, stepping briskly towards Nathan.

Nathan instinctively backed up. "I'm sorry," he mumbled.

"It's not like we ditched her, Daley," Eric stepped in. "She took off."

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"You don't look too good," Melissa murmured, gripping Jackson's arm, tightly. She was supposed to be supporting him, sort of, but she had to touch him more so out of comfort than anything else.

"He never does, though, does he?" Rodney asked conversationally. "Now, Cody, where is my money?"

Jackson seemed to hesitate. He shared a tensed look with Melissa, sure of the outcome if he denied his brother. Growing up Rodney hadn't been as heartless as he seemed to be here. He was somewhat protective and self-righteous. Jackson could name numerous times Rodney suffered grueling fights on Jackson's behalf or anybody's behalf, really. Rodney had been a nice guy. Then Jackson was taken away and Rodney was left alone. Before then Jackson hadn't really considered himself as an influence on his brother, but he soon realized that he was the only one keeping Rodney grounded in reality and care. Without Jackson Rodney needed to fall back on something. That something was a gang.

"I buried it," Jackson murmured slowly.

"Well lead on brother," Rodney responded gleefully.

Jackson figured that's what had disconnected himself from his brother and he couldn't really even say why he did but. He had taken half of what his brother had stashed. What his brother had stolen. Jackson had just wanted insurance, really. He didn't know his brother would fly to some exotic island just to track down 500 dollars in cash.


	11. Blood

Author's note - don't worry, ya'll the chapters will eventually lengthen out. I'm working on it. Thanks for reading my smallville fic too. I wasn't sure if it was too out there. Maybe I introduce Clark into the next chapter. He kinda has to be there.

"Stay here, Cody," Rodney ordered, tugging on Jackson's arm to stop him. "I want this girly here to dig." Rodney nodded to one of his guys and he took off towards the forest, leading Melissa by her arm.

"How do you know where it's at?" Jackson asked, uncomfortably shifting his weight from foot to foot. They say the majority of children can't sit still - not because there's something wrong with them but just because. Jackson had always slowly grown uncomfortable when he'd go longer than five minutes without moving. Even in this pained state he hated the feeling that standing still gave him.

"Do you think we just randomly showed up on this island, lil' bro?" Rodney laughed. "sit down," he commanded, gesturing to a tree stump next to them. Jackson ignored the gesture. "I've been watching you for a week or so. I've seen you eyeing this peculiar little patch of sand in front of that tree right over there." Jackson glanced over and saw Melissa kneeling infront of the tree, digging with her hands. He grimaced when he noticed how close Rodney's back up - Creu was to her. Creu had always been a pervert, completely relentless. He was capable of far more than Rodney ever would be. But Jackson understood the message his brother was trying to send. "Sit down, Cody."

"No, Rodney," Jackson said through gritted teeth.

"I never noticed how stubborn you were before, C.J," Rodney said, sounding a little off hand. "Everybody thought you were so wise beyond your years, when you would copy some stupid show or ma. But you're really beginning to become petty. Must be the island life, right?"

"You're a resentful old man, Rodney," Jackson murmured. "I'm not the petty one."

Rodney chuckled quietly. Jackson couldn't recall the last time Rodney had been this light hearted. Jackson glanced over at Melissa again. Creu had inched closer, but Melissa was having difficulty finding the money. "I've never seen you look at somebody like that before."

Jackson's head snapped up. "Don't you love talk me. You don't know shit about compassion."

Rodney shook his head. "When did you turn so hostile, Cody?"

"When my own brother took a whip to my back," Jackson snapped.

Rodney tutted. "Well maybe if you had just a little bit of respect for this said brother, then he wouldn't have been forced to resort to such barbaric methods of institutionalizing."

"What the fuck?"

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"Do you hear that?" Lex asked pausing in stride. "That low hum?"

Eric cocked his head to the side. "No."

"Yeah," Daley countered. "I think I do."

Nathan had begun nodding too. "Like a computer, when you turn it on."

"That's the first thing that came to mind when I heard it too," Lex admitted.

"A computer?" Taylor nearly shouted.

"Can you imagine what we can do with a computer?" Eric asked, suddenly excited.

"I never said it was a computer," Lex said quickly. "I just said it sounded like one. It could be anything."

"Anything that's a machine, right?" Taylor asked. "Like a car, or - or a microwave."

"There's no electricity out here, Taylor," Daley reminded her. "Microwaves would be kinda useless."

"Ohhh," Taylor moaned.

"Wait," Nathan said suddenly. "Do you hear voices?"

"Yeah," Daley said after a pause. "It sounds like -"

"That's Jackson."

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Rodney had suddenly attempted to take the comfort route and went to touch Jackson. Their mother had once told them both that sometimes all you needed was human companionship, just a little hug or a pat on the back. But Jackson rose quickly to his feet, stumbling away and hissing in pain.

"Don't touch me," he said loudly. Rodney made another movement closer to him. "No, back the fuck up."

"Shhh," Rodney murmured. "Is that anyway to talk to your brother?"

Jackson glanced over at the tree where he had buried the money but Melissa was gone. He turned quickly to Rodney. "What the hell are you doing?" He asked loudly.

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"The voice came from over here," Daley said, jogging in the direction of Jackson's voice.

"He couldn't have escaped without us," Lex reminded.

Daley pulled up short as soon as she had entered the clearing. "No kidding."


	12. Reunion

Author's note - thanks for the reviews, they really inspire me. If ya'll have any suggestions I'd be happy to take them seriously. A good writer always has to look outside the box, right? In truth, I'm making this up as I go, but I dunno what happened to Melissa anymore than you do, but she's with a bad person now so let's both hope nothing absolutely shattering is gonna happen. And read on to see what really happens to Rodney. And! I've finally figured out something that actually works in separating the time difference. I stoled from another flight 29 down story, but whoever came up with the ingenius ZEROS, I salute you.

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A loud piercing scream broke through the sudden silence the loud gun shot had left. Rodney had fallen to his knees, gripping his shoulder, unable to stop the blood from running through his finger. "Son of a bitch. You son of a bitch," he shouted, jumping to his feet. Adrenaline was fueling his anger and suddenly the pain wasn't quite so bad. He hit Jackson hard, who stood there, quite unsure of what to do.

Jackson had only shot anybody once, and he liked to believe it was a life or death situation. His father sure had straightened him out though. But he never did go at his mom quite so much after Jackson had shot him, and deep down Jackson wanted to believe that maybe he had actually scared his father. Maybe he wasn't such a joke anymore. But now having Rodney back in his life all of his insecurities and concerns were suddenly there, staring back at him.

Jackson released an unexpected yelp as his head hit the ground hard. Rodney had started punching him but the pain in his throbbing head and his suddenly bleeding back had numbed him. He vaguely noted that all five of the remaining group was trying to pull Rodney off of him but Rodney had locked his legs around Jackson's abdomen and had a tight grip on him.

"Stop it, you're killing him!" Lex's incredulous shreak of a voice broke through all of the shouting and the haze that had enveloped Jackson. Blood had already begun flowing and Jackson almost gagged on the lengthy flow that coarsed from his nose.

Nathan had finally had enough and resorted to outside affairs. He had seeked out a large stick and hit Rodney hard over the head with it. Rodney dropped like a sack of rocks and Daley and Nathan pulled Jackson out from underneath his brother, happy to know that he was still conscious. Unconsciousness could mean a ton of unwanted things. Jackson wasn't ready for a concussion right now.

"Jackson," Daley asked, kneeling over Jackson. "Stay conscious Jackson. Stay with us."

"We have to find Melissa like ten minutes ago," Nathan added helpfully.

Jackson shifted and groaned as his burning back suddenly kicked it up a few more notches. Home hadn't ever been anything he'd ever longed for and despite their recent troubles (what with drinking contaminated water and Nathan and Daley almost drowning in their escape attempt) he hadn't ever minded being stranded on this island. But now more than ever he just wanted to go home to whatever foster family he was living with this week and curl up in whatever bed they'd give him and sleep until the next ice age. But he couldn't do any of this. Melissa, the first person from school to speak to him, to look his way and consider him, the only person that pursued him, was now in trouble and like Cassidy, he didn't want Melissa defiled in any way either.

Jackson patted the ground around him, finally finding and seizing the gun. He groggily and very slowly rolled onto his knees and heaved himself to his feet. Once he was up he cocked the gun. "What are you doing?" Daley demanded.

"All right," Eric chorttled. "Good. Shoot the bastard."

Jackson nodded, intending to do just that but Daley and Nathan blocked his path. Their unity was really beginning to piss him off. "Move," he commanded.

"If you shoot him how are we going to find Melissa?" Lex inquired, stepping in front of Daley and Nathan. "You're not a killer, Jackson."

"Not yet," Jackson agreed, brushing past the trio and up to Rodney who was barely conscious. "Say good bye, brother," he declared, aiming the gun once more, this time at Rodney's head.

"You can't be serious," Taylor gasped. "That's...gross. And mean."

"And in front of Lex," Daley added. "Nice job traumatizing a kid."

"Thanks," Lex muttered under his breath.

Jackson ignored them all. "I'm sorry," he heard to his right. It was Nathan and with that he brought his new weapon, the wooden branch down hard on Jackson's hard. Jackson dropped the gun before he could brace himself for the blow and Daley darted down after the gun.

"Fuck," Jackson shouted, grasping at his arm. Maybe Nathan had hit him a little too hard. "Nathan! You fucking boy scout." He was really pissed, because his arm probably hurt more than the rest combined.

Daley handed Nathan the gun because she hated how it felt in her hand, like dead weight, heavy and fatal. She walked closer to Rodney and kicked him hard in the ribs. "Wake up. Take us to Melissa or Jackson's gonna put another bullet in you."

Rodney shoot his head, coughing slightly, his whole body was numb. "I ain't lyin' I don't know where he took her." A thin smile split his face, his teeth gleemed red with blood. "It wasn't part of the deal. All I wanted was a little taste of what could happen. She was just supposed to get the cash."

"And then you were supposed to kill us right?" Jackson shouted, kicking Rodney hard.

"You've really gone off the deep end, huh," Rodney coughed. "You know insanity is when you're a threat to yourself OR others. Psycho."

"You know stupidity is when you don't know when to shut the fuck up," Jackson snapped. He walked briskly backwards and began to pace. He didn't know why but suddenly he felt obligated to move. He hadn't ever paced before.

Nathan reached down and roughly pulled Rodney to his feet, taking the time to steady the boy. "Where is this...Cassidy? Where are you keeping him?"

Jackson suddenly looked up and briskly walked back to Rodney. "Yeah. Where's Cassidy?" He asked.

Rodney grinned widely. "Do you think it's wise to reunite me with my buddies?"

"Yes," Jackson said through clenched teeth.

Rodney shrugged. "It's this way then," he murmured, striding across the plain unsteadily. Jackson was behind the group as they all entered the woods. The walk was long and Daley suddenly regretted not suiting up for it. They were all thirsty and they didn't have any water, or any food. It must've been more than a day since the last time they ate.

Rodney suddenly stopped. There was a small clearing in the midst of all the trees, if Jackson didn't know any better he'd have said it looked man made. There were two guys that Jackson recognized as Rodney's friends and then in the middle of them was Cassidy.

His name was Beaver Cassidy. He was very thin, but tall. He was Jackson's age, but that was probably the only similarities they had. Beaver's face had a darker look than Jackson's. It always had but Jackson never quite knew why. This is what forced Jackson to treat him different from the rest. He just couldn't ignore Beaver like he did everybody else. Beaver was different.

"Beaver," Jackson murmured, striding forward to greet Beaver. Beaver quickly rose and the two embraced with hard hugs.

"You look like shit," Beaver assessed, pulling away to get a closer look at Jackson's face - still caked in dry blood.

"I feel worst," Jackson admitted.

"I'm to blame for that," Rodney announced, bowing.

"Who's to blame for that hole in your body," Beaver asked. Rodney's eyes narrowed.

"Don't get smart with me punk," Rodney warned. "We all saw what happens when you're faced with a scuffle. Wheezy little bitch." Beaver has asthma.

"Shut up," Jackson snapped. "You're not in charge anymore."

"We don't have time for reunions," Daley cut in. "Melissa's still out there."

"That chick that Creu took?" Beaver asked. Jackson nodded quickly, swallowing his nausea. "Yeah, he cut across the island with a boat. You'll never reach them before he...you have to swim or she'll probably be dead by the time you get to her."

Jackson nodded, cutting out, across the island, toward the water the only way he knee of, Beaver following closely behind. "You can't swim like this," Taylor said loudly, pressing closer to Jackson and Beaver. "You're too weak."

"Thanks Taylor," Jackson replied over his shoulder.

"She's right," Daley agreed. "You're in no position for long distance swimming."

"Neither does Rodney," Jackson told Daley. "The difference is I know how to swim and Rodney doesn't. Wanna place a bet to see who drowns first?"


	13. Marooned

Author's note - thanks for the reviews. I do know it'd help to read over the chapters, but I get impatient. I will try to spell check and all that tho. Sorry if the mispelled words or incorrect words bothered anybody from my other wise perfect chapters. No, seriously, if ya'll have any more bothers feel free to tell me. I like pleasing people. ALSO!!! Yes, I did steal Beaver Cassidy from Veronica mars. I was so tempted to just name him Cassidy Casablancas - greatest name ever, but I didn't want to be a complete thief. I was kinda thinking of Kyle Gallner, and I honestly didn't think that many would notice. But nobody has to envision Beaver as kyle or anything. I mean, who wouldn't want to envision kyle? But whatever. Sorry, if the name irritates anyone, but I love the name Cassidy. It's adorable!

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The team had wasted no time changing or preparing, really, for the task at hand. It'd been decided that Eric, Taylor, Lex and Beaver would stay behind. It was completely too dangerous for Lex, Beaver had asthma and Taylor absolutely refused, something about hydrophobia. Eric, of course, opted to stay behind to 'watch' over the team. So after tying up the two men they'd found guarding Beaver, the remaining - Jackson, Rodney, Nathan and Daley prepared in the quickest way possible to dive in. Nathan pulled off his shirt over his head and discarded his shoes and socks. As little baggage as possible was best, really.

Jackson strode out as far as he could without swimming, hissing as the salt water stung his back horridly. Jackson had taken the shackles Rodney had been carrying, probably thanks to the tribesmen and shackled him and Rodney together. Jackson now wrenched his arm forward, forcing Rodney along side him. "You can't be serious," Rodney hissed. "It's too far."

"It's not that far," Daley murmured gently, waddling up along side Jackson. "Just concentrate on swimming."

"Lets get this over with," Jacksn muttered as Nathan reached the trio. Jackson jerked forward, dragging Rodney with him. Swimming was awkward and definetly a lot more tiring than Jackson remembered. Carrying Rodney was like carrying a sack of rocks. Jackson had lost count of the times Rodney had dragged him underwater. The water was eating at his clothes, freezing him to the bone. His back was at a numb sort of burning state already and he could see the dark dots eating away the edges of his vision.

Jackson was slipping under, and he could feel Rodney moving frantically beside him. Then strong hands gripped his free arm and he was pulled out of the water. His lungs were on fire and he couldn't stop shaking. "Jackson. Jackson." Jackson blinked hard, coughing up a mouthful of water. "Jackson, are you alright? Jackson, speak. Jackson."

"Shut up," Jackson gasped. His body felt like it weighed a ton. "I'm fine."

"Son of a bitch," Rodney swore beside him, wiping the water out of his eyes. "You almost drowned me, crazy bastard." Rodney was squirming beside him. "Unlock the handcuffs," he commanded.

"No," Jackson coughed.

"What do you mean no?" Rodney asked loudly, sitting up quickly.

"No," Jackson repeated, slowly sitting up, wincing.

"Cody," Rodney warned.

"Let's go," Jackson murmured, attempting to stand up but he was shaking too badly.

"Maybe we should stay here and rest for a little bit first," Daley suggested.

"We don't have time." Jackson made it to his feet, dragging Rodney up with him. "Let's go."

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"I spy something green," Taylor announced.

"That tree," Beaver guessed, pointing straight ahead.

"No," Taylor said.

"That tree?" Eric asked pointing at a different tree.

"No."

"That bush?" Lex suggested.

"No."

"That tree?" Beaver asked, pointing at a different tree.

"No."

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"Jackson, you're bleeding," Nathan said, gazing at Jackson's bare back. Jackson's walking had slowed and his breathing was heavier. "Don't be a hero."

"Somebody has to," Jackson gasped, breathing deeply.

"Why didn't we bring water?" Daley asked loudly.

"Why won't you take a break?" Rodney asked Jackson.

"Because Creu is a very impatient little boy," Jackson snapped. "It could already be too late."

"Whatever," Rodney muttered as Jackson pressed onward.

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"That tree?" Eric asked, pointing to a tree that oddly enough, seemed very familiar.

"I already said no to that one," Taylor replied impatiently.

"Is it that tree Taylor?" Beaver asked.

"No." Her answer was met by many groans. "Well it's not my fault you both suck."

"Yes it is," Eric argued. "I think you're lying. Quit changing the answers! What tree is it?"

"I can't just give you the answer," Taylor replied defensively.

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"Shhhh," Nathan said suddenly. "I hear voices."

The group stopped to listen and they did hear voices, but the voices were too quiet and muffled for any of them to make out the words. "It could be female," Daley offered.

"Or male," Nathan answered darkly.

"Or both," Rodney replied brightly.

"There's nobody else," Jackson muttered, digging his hands through his pockets for the key to the shackles. He found it and dug it out but Rodney lurched forward and knocked it out of his hands. "What the fuck are you doing?" Jackson demanded.

A weird smile played on Rodney's lips as he kicked the key and dirt around. "You don't have time to find the key, Codikins."

Jackson narrowed his eyes and roughly jerked Rodney forward, trudging onward. A shriek came loud and clear. "Melissa," Daley, Nathan and Jackson admonished in unison. They quickened their pace.

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"Just tell me if it is that tree, Taylor," Eric commanded, pointing a violent figure at a tree. "Tell me now!"

"No," Taylor said. "If you don't want to play nicely I don't want to play at all."

A round of shots went off behind the group, making them all jump and turn around quickly.

"Oh dear," Beaver breathed.

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The group finally stumbled into a clearing. Jackson first saw Creu and then he saw red, only one intent in his mind as he quickly crossed the clearing. Underneath Creu was Melissa. She didn't look as bad as Jackson but she didn't look good, the usually peaceful look about her completely gone.

"Bastard," Jackson shouted. He attempted to launch himself at Creu but Rodney stopped him. Jackson glanced back at Rodney. "What are you doing?"

"Sorry, little brother."


	14. Mutiny

"Rodney," Jackson hissed. "If there is anything left of our relationship you will stop Creu." Jackson hesitated, staring hard at Rodney but Rodney wasn't moving. "Rodney, I don't have time for this. Please." Jackson hadn't ever been one to wait around for people to comply. Rodney hadn't ever seen him like this before. Caring.

Creu seemed to have paused to watch the scene play out before him, but now he dipped down to Melissa. "How did that feel, girly?" Creu asked. "Bet it hurts, that hope being torn from you."

"Why are you doing this?" Melissa asked, her voice hoarsh, barely above a whisper.

"I'm one sadistic pup, kid," Creu breated against Melissa's neck. "And you're the bone."

Nathan and Daley stroke forward in unison, almost reaching Creu. "Wait for it, kid, your hope's about to be distinguished." At first it was a few branches broke but then much more as the rest of Rodney's gang stepped out of the trees. Nathan and Daley froze in mid stride.

"You didn't honestly think I'd travel lightly, did you, little brother?" Rodney asked coyly.

Jackson shook his head. He'd messed up so completely the entire time. He didn't have the gun anymore so any thoughts of immediate pain to Rodney was now impossible and now that they were handcuffed Rodney basically couldn't die anyways. He should've just killed him when he had the chance. It was stupid to aim low, and he knew it even then.

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"Sup, fellas?" Beaver asked, rising to his feet. Three guns were immediately trained on his chest, effective red aiming dots and all. Beaver glanced down at them, slowly raising his hands. "That's unnecessary."

"Shut up Cassidy," one of the gunsmen commanded.

"This is too much," Taylor gasped.

"Yeah, get over with it and kill us already," Eric told them. "Just stop taking us hostage. I'm sick of it."

"Eric," Taylor and Lex shouted at the same time.

"Don't give them ideas," Beaver added.

One of the gunsmen stepped forward, grabbing Beaver hard by the arm and pulling him forward. His name was Carl, and he was no stranger to Beaver. He'd put Beaver in the hospital just last year with a fractured arm and a brocken cheek bone. "Not so rough," Beaver commanded, trying to cover up his flinch.

"What's the matter?" Carl asked. "Is the busy Beaver still scared?"

"No," Beaver answered indignantly.

"What are you here for anyway?" Eric asked, now standing up. "Dude, we weren't gonna move anyway."

"Orders," Carl commented.

"From Rodney?" Beaver asked. "He didn't have time to change plans..." Carl cocked an eyebrow and gave Beaver a hooded look. "But if not Rodney then who?"

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Rodney had finally unshackled Jackson from himself (or he from Jackson, really) and instead he shackled Jackson to a tree branch, unlucky for Jackson because he couldn't sit, which right now is the second most thing he wanted to do, after 'rescuing' Melissa. But now he had to 'stretch' with his arms above his head, and he didn't want to admit it but it hurt more than anything.

"Let the girl up," Rodney relunctantly told Creu. "And give me my money, bitch."

Creu hesitantly slid off of Melissa and angrily jerked her to her feet. He shoved her towards Daley and Nathan who were standing idly off to the side. He jerked his head at one of the men in the trees and that man produced a sack. He tossed the sack to Rodney who searched it hungrily. His cash was there.

"Good," rodney murmured, suddenly giddy. "Now let's get the fuck off this island." He turned to leave but one of his men stopped him.

"You're just gonna leave these kids?" he asked.

Rodney nodded like the guy was stupid. "Yes."

"Even the girls?" Another asked.

Rodney nodded again. "Yes. I'm bleeding, bitch."

"You're not even gonna kill them?" Creu asked, even though he knew Rodney wouldn't ever kill his own brother.

"No," Rodney replied. "They'll eventually starve. Let's go."

As Rodney went to walk one of his men put a hand on his chest. "No."

"What?" Rodney asked. "What the fuck you mean no?"

The man snatched the bag from Rodney's hands. "Selfish bastard. You're not coming with us."

"What the fuck you mean I'm not coming?" rodney demanded. "That's my fucking boat. I fucking paid for this shit."

"Mutiny, Cap'n," Creu announced, humming. Humming was a classical warning of mutiny.

"Mutiny," Rodney repeated. "I've known you since we were kids, Creu," he breathed. "You wouldn't do this to me."

"Obviously you haven't known me at all," Creu murmured, walking toward Melissa. "It was just a matter of time." He licked his lips.

"Let's go," the man holding the money announced, turning around. "If I see you again, Rodney, I'm doing what that pussy bitch of yours couldn't."

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"Wait," Beaver gasped. They'd been walking through the forest for a few hours now and Beaver's seps had become heavier and slower. He was breathing hard, his breath coming out in short gasps. "Carl," he gasped, trying to stop the man that had a hold of his arm. He tripped over a root in his delay, but this finally broke the man's grasp n his arm, as he landed hard on the ground.

Beaver clutched his chest, trying to slow his breathing. He hadn't remembered to bring his inhaler when Rodney had snatched him. "Can't..." he wheezed. "Breathe." His vision was dimming as the oxygen flow to his brain was diminishing. What left of his vision had blurred due to the tears that was rising to his eyes. Taylor was the first to kneel beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Deep breaths," she told him gently. She took a deep breath. "Follow my breathing." She took another deep breath and then another. After a few short gasps Beaver finally managed a deep breath and then another. He was concentrated real hard on just breathing but it seemed to be working. "That's good," Taylor told him soothingly. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Beaver said in a hoarse voice after he was sure he could breathe. "Yeah," he told her again, massaging his chest.


	15. Acceptance

Author's note - sorry for the huge delay, that was like forever. I was under extreme pressure from school but it's all better now. Three day weekend! Plus I had to conceive of where I want to go next with this story because the main antagonist is really really upset. But yeah, enjoy, there's some trouble lurking up ahead. And I know I know smallville's not going anywhere for my story but just be patient, I'm sorry it's taking so long.

By the way, I mention a condition that Jackson has and I'm not making it up. Obviously in the show Jackson doesn't have it but I have this kid in my automotive class who was in a car accident or something and this is what happens to him when he sits up straight and everything. So, I'm not totally an 'inventor'.

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"That's a nice brother you have," Daley told Jackson sarcastically after Rodney had just up and left. Rodney was under a lot of pressure, but that didn't mean Jackson didn't intend to kill him when he saw him again.

Jackson shifted his body weight, wincing as the chains moved on his wrists. They had spent a good deal of time attempting to unchain Jackson. They'd even gone back and made an attempt to find the other key that Jackson had dropped, but it just wasn't happening. Jackson had tried to break the branch but either the branch was too strong or he was too weak, it both led to one thing. He now had bloody wrists.

"What are we going to do?" Nathan asked pacing. "What about Eric and Taylor?"

"And Beaver," Jackson added.

"You don't think leaving them was a bad idea?" Daley asked Nathan.

"Maybe if we had taken them with us things wouldn't have gone so badly," Nathan mentioned.

"How do you figure?" Daley asked. 

"I don't know!"

Jackson glanced over at Melissa who was sitting on the ground a few feet away, leaning against a tree with her knees pulled up to her chest. She really didn't look good, but Jackson didn't think he wanted to know what Creu had almost done to her.

Jackson stretched uncomfortably. When he was younger he had gotten into a street fight and someone had pulled a knife. The doctor used a lot of big words to explain his situation but it all meant the same to Jackson. Something happened to his vertebrae or whatever in his back. But all he knew was that when he sat up straight his back would go into these intense aches. It felt the same when he moved a lot for a long period of time or stayed standing for long amounts of time. The doctor had also told Jackson that if he got another concussion he'd probably die. That was three concussions ago.

Now that Eric and Taylor wasn't there, there was no one to point out how long it'd been since the last time they'd eaten or had any water. "What are we gonna do?" Daley repeated the question, hoping an answer lied in there somewhere.

"Guys, just leave," Jackson told them but Daley and Nathan erupted in an argument of refusal. "We're all hungry. And there's no food or water here. There's some back at camp though. So go, it's not like I'm going anywhere."

"We can't just leave you here," Nathan told him. "Alone, chained to a tree. That's not a good predicament."

"You're telling me," Jackson mumbled as he stretched again.

"I'll stay with him." It was Melissa who was now right beside Jackson but he couldn't say when she'd stood up or moved.

Daley and Nathan seemed to both hesitate as though they were thinking the same thoughts. "Are you sure?" Daley asked.

Melissa nodded. "I can't go back if you do anyways. Everything hurts. So I'll stay."

Still they seemed hesitant. "Alright," Daley eventually said, regaining her confident voice. "Well if we're going lets go. We'll be back real quick with food and water." She caught herself before she told them to stay there and not move.

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"Hey," Taylor said loudly but Carl ignored her anyways. "We're moving too fast."

"We don't have a lot of time," Carl told her.

"Yeah well, you won't have a choice when Beaver drops dead because he can't breathe," Taylor told him.

"It makes no difference to me." Carl shrugged.

"Tough break, dude," Eric told Beaver. Beaver had begun to walk slower as though it suddenly came hard to him so Carl told Taylor and Eric to give him a hand. Taylor walked ahead of them, beside Carl and Eric half supported Beaver but it was difficult walking like this in a wooded area.

"Where are you taking us?" Taylor demanded.

"You talk too much, little girl," Carl told her between clenched teeth.

"Look, mister -"

"Shh, we're here," Carl said suddenly. They had left the forest behind them and now they were on the shores of the island once more.

Eric gasped loudly. "This is better than Christmas," he whispered.

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Jackson tugged hard on the branch but wasn't far enough down on it to break it. When did Rodney get so smart? Jackson gasped quietly as the cuffs bit bitterly into his flesh. He didn't know how much longer he could stand without going crazy.

He glanced over at Melissa. She was sitting again but she was closer to him now. "Melissa," Jackson began.

"I'm fine," Melissa told him. "He didn't do anything. You guys showed up in time. We really don't have to talk."

"Yes we do," Jackson told her. "You shouldn't have been in that situation. It was stupid of me to get you involved."

"There wasn't much you could've done to prevent it, Jackson," Melissa mumbled. There was, of course. He could've not stolen from his brother to begin with. Jackson was quiet for a moment. "I don't blame you, Jackson," Melissa told him quietly.


	16. Chance

Author's note - sorry, this one's short. But I did realize that I like keeping them separated because it gives me more to write on, really. But I'll try to figure out a way to get them to come together in the end. So enjoy.

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What would present such a satisfying shock to Eric some of you are wondering, I'm sure. Well, it was the only thing Eric had wanted for two months, since they'd crashed on this island. A way home. And there right on the shore of the island rested a boat. A big boat.

"I'm not going without Jackson," Beaver said loudly, struggling against Carl, trying to stop.

"Sorry to break it to you, Cassidy, but yes you are." Carl jerked Beaver roughly forward.

"Carl -"

"Being stuck on this island really isn't as charming as it seems," Eric told Beaver.

"I don't care," Beaver shouted, pulling against Carl. "You would just leave Jackson and the rest behind?"

Eric and Taylor switched looks of apprehension. Carl jerked Beaver forward again, the time letting go of his hand so he tripped and fell to his knees. Carl pulled the gun from his belt and pressed it hard against Beaver's head. "It's alright, Beeve, you don't have to leave Jackson," Carl whispered into his ear. "You'll be here when they come." Carl cocked his gun.

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"What's wrong, Jackson?" Melissa asked.

Jackson looked up from the ground. He shook his head. "Nothing."

"You're moving like you…I dunno, agitated." Jackson suddenly forced him to stop moving. Melissa reached up to his hands and slowly moved her fingers along the skin there. "And your wrist, they're covered in hives. What's the matter with you?"

"I don't like standing for a while," Jackson admitted.

"Since when?" Melissa asked. Jackson cocked an eyebrow. "Sorry, mandatory question."

"And I'm allergic to iron." Melissa raised her eyebrows. "It's not too bad," Jackson said quickly. It's just, when I'm around it for hours at a time, it starts to irritate my skin."

"Why'd you handcuff yourself then?" Melissa asked.

"I didn't expect it to end like this, Mel," Jackson said quickly.

Melissa and Jackson straightened up when they heard the crunching of branches - then Nathan and Daley appeared. Nathan raised a machete. "We brought the machete. Maybe we can cut the branch down."

"How are you gonna get up there?" Melissa asked, glancing up at the tree.

"The branch isn't that far from the ground," Nathan said. And it wasn't, it was probably less than a foot above Jackson's head. "And I'll just climb - like I did when I was getting coconuts. It won't be that bad."

"How'd you carry food and the machete across water?" Jackson asked.

"It was like Christmas," Daley said, walking up to Nathan. "I guess your buddies were in some kind of hurry because they totally left their boat. So now we don't have to swim back. We can just row. Maybe we can row off this island."

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Rodney stumbled again, this time catching himself before he fell. He couldn't exactly say he was surprised that his friends had finally betrayed him. He was surprised that they didn't do what he knew he couldn't do. He was surprised that they had just left Jackson and his new friends.

Jackson hadn't ever been a magnet for fun and exciting people, but even the people that were attracted to Rodney disliked Jackson when it came down to it. Jackson was rejected by the people that lived in the light because he carried too much of himself in the dark. But he was also rejected by those that lived in the dark because his soul existed in the light. Jackson was an anomaly.

That's why Rodney couldn't kill him. He could hurt Jackson all he wanted but he knew that he would never really change Jackson. Jackson was too far gone to be 'depressed' or changed by anything Rodney did to him. Jackson couldn't return to the boy he had once been, but he couldn't get lost anymore than he already was. He was in his perfect place of existence and Rodney knew that he could not change that. He was no longer an affect in his brother's life.

Rodney tripped again, catching himself against a tree. He paused, trying to catch his bearings. He was stuck, really. He would be on this island forever, just like his brother, if he didn't find his own way off.


	17. reconcoliation

Author's note - thanks for the review about Rodney, it's actually inspired me so I hope everyone enjoys the next chapter

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Nathan lifted the machete and brought it down on Jackson's chains. Jackson flinched back but the sparks died before they reached him. The plan had worked and the branch had snapped but Jackson was still chained. Nathan had layed his chains across a large rock but they still couldn't break them.

Nathan lifted the machete again and brought it down hard. "The blade's too dull," Daley said, pacing. "What are we gonna do?" Daley asked.

"Guys, it's fine," Jackson said, rising to his feet. The chains felt heavy. "We don't have time. Beaver's still out there."

"And Taylor and Eric, Jackson," Daley reminded him. Jackson nodded. Sure, Taylor and Eric could be an annoyance but there was already a relationship between these gangsters and Beaver. If anybody was to get hurt, it would be Beaver. And if there was anybody who didn't know when to shut up - it was Beaver.

"Here," Melissa said, handing a bottle to Jackson.

Jackson stared at the bottle. "What is this?"

"It's lotion," Melissa answered. "It'll irritate your cuts but the itching will subside."

"Thanks, Melissa," Jackson murmured. "How'd you know about this?"

"I'm allergic to nickle," Melissa answered. "It's the stuff that makes up most jewlery and belt buckles and buttons. When I get irritated I use it."

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A shot echoed around the beach, despite the lack of walls. Beave ducked down and Eric and Taylor both flinched back. But when they looked up they realized that Carl had not fired the gun and Beaver was not dead.

Beaver looked behind him at Carl's newly dead corpse and over at Taylor and Eric. Behind them several feet stood a figure he recognized too well. "What the..." Eric began but Beaver was already on his feet. Eric and Taylor followed his gaze.

"I am so confused," Taylor mumbled.

"Yeah," Eric agreed. Rodney had approached them. "Dude, are you a good guy or a bad guy, seriously?"

"What do you want?" Beaver demanded, approaching the trio.

"The only thing I came here for, Cassidy," Rodney murmured. "My money." He pointed straight ahead at the boat. "And my boat."

"Where's Jackson?" Taylor asked. "Where's everybody else?"

Rodney shrugged. "I left him chained to a tree. Is this your way of thanks, Beeve?" Rodney asked.

Beaver cocked an eyebrow. "Yes," he answered indignantly. "Jackson's allergic to iron, Rodney. You know that. Do you know what will happen if he's chained for too long?" Beaver answered before Rodney could. "You do."

And Rodney did know. Their father had been quite the fan of restraints. And Jackson was the perfect victim, young and helpless - still capable of feeling. It didn't help that their father knew of jackson's allergies. Once he just forgot about Jackson and fell asleep. The next day when everyone had woken up, Jackson was unconscious, on the brink of death, the doctor had said. His wrist were red for weeks after this incident. If Jackson stayed in those cuffs for too long he'd be too far gone for the barbarian medical help they had on the island. Jackson's life was once again in Rodney's hands.

"I don't care," Rodney said quietly. "By the time he passes out, I'll be long gone."

"Really?" Beaver asked sarcastically. "It's gonna be real hard escaping from yourself. Everytime you wake and look in that dingy mirror of yours, it'll still be you that you see."

"You can prevent that," Taylor said. "Just go find Jackson and unhandcuff him. Do some good."

"I don't need to do any good," Rodney snapped.

"If you didn't you wouldn't have shot Carl," Beaver said.

"Carl was a traitor," Rodney said loudly. A thin smile paused briefly on Beaver's face. "You're not off the hook, Cassidy Casablancas," Rodney said. (Yes, I changed Beaver's name. It's been a long day of veronica mars marathons and I feel bad at how Beaver died so i wanted to envision him as a good guy once more). Rodney cocked his gun. "You haven't been shot yet, have you, Beeve?" Rodney asked, training the gun on Beaver once more.

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"Careful," Melissa murmured softly, steadying Jackson after he tripped for the tenth time. He'd never been so annoyed before. Jackson paused, wiping the beads of sweat from his brow before continuing.

It wasn't too far before the team stumbled out of the woods and into the clearing that had been their beach for so long. Jackson searched up and down the shore. Squinting, Nathan pointed. "There they are." Melissa raised an eyebrow but Jackson was already sprinting down the beah toward the tiny figures.

"Rodney!" Jackson shouted as he neared the group. Rodney lifted the gun, forcing Jackson to a stop. "I need the key," Jackson murmured, lifting his shackles.

"What in that big head of yours would make you think that I'd ever give you the key?" Rodney asked.

"You didn't kill me back there and you can't kill me now," Jackson told Rodney quietly, closing the distances between them. "Just give me the key."

Rodney fished through his pockets and pulled out the key, he tossed it to Jackson who quickly unshackled himself and tossed the chains to the side. "Where's your crew?" Nathan asked as the team reached Jackson.

"What crew?" Rodney asked. "Oh, the one that stole my money." He threw a glare at Jackson. "If there is a god, they all died some horrible death. If there isn't - they're probably closing the distance between themselves and us real quickly so if you want to escape this island then we best be leaving."

It didn't take the team long to decide, as one - with Eric in the lead - they took off toward the boat, Jackson and Beaver following behind the group. "You okay?" Beaver asked, eyeing Jackson.

"No," Jackson murmured. "We're going home. Where ever that is."


	18. Touched

_Jackson blinked several times before the sleep disappeared from his vision. He leaned into the bed he was suddenly laying on, soaking it up. When did it get so soft? "Jackson?" Jackson's eyes snapped open at Melissa's voice. She was standing a few feet from his bed, peering down at him._

"_Melissa?" Jackson asked. He sat up quickly, reality hitting him. "What are you doing here?" _In my room_, he added silently to himself. _

"_I decided to see how the real Jackson lives," Melissa murmured, taking a seat on his bed. She gazed around his room. "It looks nice."_

"_No it doesn't," Jackson said. He didn't need her trying to make him feel better. He knew that compared to the other houses she'd probably been to his room was small and bare. All he owned was a bed and a pile of clothes._

"_It's modest," Melissa agreed._

"_It's poor, Melissa," Jackson told her._

"_You're not the only one that doesn't have any money, Jackson," Melissa murmured. "Just keep that in mind."_

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"How's he doing?" Melissa asked, staring down at Jackson's unconscious form. Beaver and Jackson probably seemed the most apprehensive about getting on a ship with Rodney but they both consented because they'd lost the vote that Daley had insisted upon. Jackson had fallen asleep soon after boarding the ship, his body refusing to continue without sleep for the last two days, and sleep was the only way to escape the hunger. They'd also packed food but they had to ration it so they wouldn't run out somewhere along the line from here to there.

"He's been asleep for the past ten hours," Daley murmured. "He keeps moving though, like he's have nightmares or something."

Melissa stared down at Jackson hard. "I wonder what scares him enough to become a nightmare."

"Probably the last forty eight hours," Daley murmured.

"Yeah," Melissa agreed. "That was tough. You should go take a nap too though. When's the last time you slept."

Daley shook her head. "I don't think we should leave Jackson alone.'

Melissa nodded. "I know," she agreed. "But you need sleep too. I'll watch him for now."

Daley seemed hesitant. "Are you sure? It's not too much? I mean, you've been through a lot too."

Melissa nodded. "Yeah, but I'm fine, thanks to Jackson. I think I owe him this much."

"Alright," Daley said. "Come wake someone up if anything happens," she told Melissa.

"Alright," Melissa agreed and Daley left the room to find a vacant bed for herself. Melissa turned back to Jackson. His face was scrunched up, but she wasn't sure if it was from pain or anger. Melissa sank down to the ground, leaning back against his bed.

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"_No, Melissa, you don't want to meet my family," Jackson told her again. "They're not like Nathan's or Daley's. They don't care."_

"_They can't be that bad if they're a foster family," Melissa said._

_Jackson grinned for the first in a long time at Melissa's naiveté. "Yes they can," he said darkly. This current family wasn't that bad, but he knew more than anything else that there were several thousand foster families that weren't quite as wholesome as the façade they put on for the social workers. He'd experienced them too much already and the experiences made him want to remain with his current family just to avoid the possibility that the next family might not be quite so nice, even if it were just for another year or two._

"_Did something happen to you in another foster family?" Melissa asked._

_Jackson was quiet for a moment. Talking about the problems would make them real and he wasn't sure he was ready for it. He really didn't want to talk about the problems at all but he knew that if he didn't he could ruin his relationship with Melissa. "Melissa," he said quietly._

"_I'm sorry, Jackson," Melissa said quietly too. "If you don't want to talk about it…I didn't mean to pry…"_

"_It's not prying," Jackson assured her. "Somebody's going to have to find out sometime, right?"_

"_Find out about what, Jackson?" Melissa asked._

"_About why I'm like this," Jackson commented. "Something did happen. Something so horrible that I can't forget it. I can't stop it from replaying in my head every day." Jackson paused, licking his lips slowly._

"_Jackson, you don't have to say anything more," Melissa told him gently._

"_I know," Jackson agreed. "But I want to."_

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Melissa laid her head back, turning it slightly so she could still stare at Jackson's unconscious face. He'd gone through so much already, what could be torturing him now. And why was Jackson so apprehensive about going home. Isn't that what they'd all been working toward for so long now? What if home wasn't any better for Jackson? What if it was worst? What had they forced Jackson into doing?

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"_When I was ten I was taken away from my parents." Melissa nodded. She'd known he was already foster care, but she didn't know he was put in at such a young age. "The first foster family kind of set the bar for the rest. They weren't much better than my real parents and at times they were worst. Because my parents had to drink to really get pissed. But this family they had these god awful mood swings. After four trips to the hospital social services took me out of that house. I was thirteen. I was put in like eight different family over the span of two years. And some of them weren't the greatest. Some were worst because my parents had always had these limits. They could beat me bloody but they'd never…y'know…they never…touched me. They never…they had their limits. And some of these families didn't. The family I'm with right now is new. The ideas haven't come to them yet. I've been with them since the beginning of the school year and they're still using that fake façade that they understand me and that they really wanna help."_

"_Jackson," Melissa murmured. "Jackson," she murmured again. She wasn't sure if he needed contact but Melissa came over with the urge to hug him. She want to feel him in her arms again. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him tightly. Jackson, after swallowing the fact that Melissa was disgusted with him, that their relationship was still intact, hugged her back with such force Melissa had to breathe shallow breaths._

"_You're not…" Jackson swallowed hard. "You're not grossed out?"_

"_It wasn't your fault, Jackson," Melissa murmured into his shoulder. "I'd never be grossed out by you, Jackson. I love you."_

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"I love you too, Melissa." Melissa's head jerked up at Jackson's mumbled words.


	19. Love

Author's note - sorry about the delay with smallville. Still working out the kinks. But I've got a lot of ideas for flight 29 down. Or at least one chapter worth. So, be patient. And enjoy. Hopefully this story can last for quite a while more. And please check out my myspace. SERIOUSLY. http://profile. like he's in a coma," Beaver commented, lounging beside Melissa. Melissa's butt was sore from sitting on the ground for so long but she didn't want to leave Jackson's side. When he woke up, she wanted her face to be the first he saw. After a scuffle with Rodney Beaver had resided back to Jackson's room. "Dude, this pound cake is like my god right now," he said as he took a bite.

Melissa allowed a grin. Beaver was a good guy but she wasn't sure how to react to him. Everybody that was on that plane, even though they weren't her 'crowd' they were still her people. Beaver was Jackson's. This is who Jackson chose to affiliate himself with so she knew Beaver had to be more than okay. But this didn't solve her problem. She didn't know how to talk to him. It took her a long time and a lot of necessities to talk to Jackson in an easy way. She still had problems.

But Beaver wasn't Jackson. He revealed a lot more to Melissa, and everyone really. When he was in pain or bored or whatever, he showed it quite a bit. He was a very mellow guy. "You gonna eat that?" Beaver asked, eyeing Melissa's untouched pound. He licked his wrapper before discarding it.

"No," Melissa said, handing the pound cake to him.

"You sure?" Beaver asked, taking it from her hands. "Cause you know what that red head chick is preaching. Don't eat what you don't need, right? But I really need a pound cake. My mental capacity is at stake here."

Melissa revealed a grin. "It's okay, Beaver. Eat the pound cake."

Beaver shrugged, unwrapping the pound cake. "Who am I to argue with that? I'll accept your wishes." He took a bite. "So, you're Jackson's love interest, huh?"

Melissa almost gagged on the spit she was currently swallowing. "What?"

"Yeah," Beaver murmured nodding. "Jackson's a fucking loser." Melissa cocked an eyebrow. "I dunno what your situation is," Beaver added quickly. "But…I just assumed…y'know…you two were…am I out of line?" He asked suddenly.

"No," Melissa murmured. "I just…He's really…contemplative. He doesn't usually share his…I guess his thoughts or feelings. I don't know…I'm not sure how he feels about us. But he knows how I feel."

Beaver nodded, swallowing his large bite. He made a gagging nose before swallowing it completely. "Yeah," he agreed. "He's been like that ever since I met him. We were like what…ten?" Beaver nodded as though he agreed with himself. "It's something that happened to him. He told me once that when you say things out loud, like how you feel and if you're proud of yourself, it's like you're giving people permission to judge you. You don't want to seem proud because not everybody's proud of you. And those that aren't are more outspoken. Nobody likes being made fun of. Some major shit must've happened to him. I mean, I know some of the stuff but…he's a secretive guy."

"He's a loyal friend though," Melissa murmured. "The only kind I want."

"So you want me too, huh?" Beaver asked, winking at Melissa.

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"Put that back," Daley said loudly.

Beaver jumped at the sudden noise, spinning around to see Daley blocking the only exit. "Jesus Christ woman! Can't you walk louder or maybe you can adopt this really heavy breathing."

"Put that back you little pig," Daley repeated, snatching the pound cake from Beaver's hands. "There's only one pound cake per person. You've already had yours."

"Dude, it's a little square. No need for a heart attack, sparky," Beaver told her, as he tried to grab the pound cake back.

Daley moved her hand out of his reach. "If I have to put a lock on these containers, I will," she threatened.

Beaver gasped loudly. "You wouldn't dare."

Daley gave a short laugh. "Don't even tempt me."

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Jackson jerked awake with a loud intake of breath. Melissa quickly rose to her knees. "Jackson?" she asked. The cloud of confusion quickly evaporated from his eyes. "Jackson, are you okay or…"

Jackson slowed his breathing relatively quickly, relaxing suddenly back against the bed. "I'm fine," he mumbled.

"You've been asleep for like eighteen hours, Jackson," Melissa told him. "I think okay's pretty much gone now."

"I guess the stress and lack of food and sleep really caught up with me, huh?" Jackson chuckled brightly.

"Jackson. Beaver said something about…" Melissa stopped abruptly as Beaver ran into the room shutting the door quickly behind him and then leaning against it.

"You little pig!" Daley shouted through the door. She pounded on it with a fist. "There's more people on this ship then you! Hope you enjoy that pound cake because that's all you're eating today."

"Bite me!" Beaver shouted back.

"Don't tempt me you little chipmunk," Daley retorted.

He turned around to face Jackson and Melissa when he heard her retreat. "What's up sleeping beauty," he asked brightly.

Jackson stared hard at Melissa before glancing up at Beaver. "Did I miss something?"

Melissa and Beaver shook their heads and answered no in unison. "I find that hard to believe," Jackson murmured. He stretched. "I'm starving."

Beaver's eyes lit up like a child's on Christmas morning. "Brilliant. Here's what you do, buddy. Just go in there to get your meal. And give me your pound cake." Beaver paused. "I mean, if you _want _to…right?"

Jackson shook his head. Several memories were flooding his mind. He wanted to contemplate what his dream really meant and what he felt about his reactions to it but Beaver's presence was overpowering. It was like old times between them. Beaver was hyperactive and calm at the same time and at times Jackson couldn't resist the urge to smile and even laugh.

He rose from the bed stiffly and stretched again. "Do you want anything Melissa."

Melissa face flushed. But how many times had Jackson asked her this before. _A hundred_, she answered silently. Ignore it, it didn't mean anything secretly. "Just some water." Jackson nodded and left promptly.

"Boy is this love tense," Beaver asked happily, dropping down onto Jackson's bed. "And boy is this bed hot."

"He said he loved me," Melissa told Beaver quickly.

Beaver was quiet for a minute before asking, "Say what?"

"In his sleep. He said he loved me. In his sleep," Melissa explained. "What does that mean?"

"Do I look like Yoda?" Beaver asked. Melissa's eyes dropped. "I'm just kidding, kiddo. People don't lie with they're asleep. Well they do…in a bed…but…y'know what I mean."


	20. Home

Author's note - sorry, I separate the note from the story but sometimes the site mixes em up. It's not my fault. And actually until now I haven't really thought of Beaver's age. I dunno, it's like it's mature, but he's really immature too. I think I'll make him younger than Jackson. So he'll be maybe sixteen. And thanks for Beaver praise. I think everybody mentioned him in their review. I was actually working toward his liking. Cause when I introduced him, of course I liked him. But since I liked him I wanted other people to like him. So he'll be comic relief and Jackson insight, maybe. I dunno where to go from here, so remember if you wanna see something, just tell me. I'm also trying to work everybody into the story so it's not just Jackson Melissa and Beaver. That was a long note. Now enjoy.

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"I think there needs to be a group meeting," Daley announced, entering Jackson room. "Welcome back, Jackson. From wherever your mind went. But we need to lay down some ground rules," Daley said, eyeing Beaver.

"It's just food," Beaver said quickly.

"He's hungry," Jackson added, almost like Beaver were an underfed dog.

"I don't care," Daley said. "We're all hungry and it kinda sucks that he gets the food everybody else needs."

"Alright." Jackson turned to Beaver. "No more stealing food."

Beaver shrugged, almost abashed. "Alright."

Daley narrowed her eyes. "And tell him to stop starting fights with Rodney."

"Why?" Jackson and Beaver asked in unison.

"Because it upsets the mood on this goddamn ship," Daley shouted back.

"You heard her, Beeve," Jackson murmured.

"Fine," Beaver said.

"Why are you always so hungry?" Melissa asked Beaver when Daley had left.

Beaver shrugged and shook his head. "I dunno. It's just…all this food…there's a lot of…I have to go to the bathroom." Beaver stood abruptly and quickly left the room."

Melissa glanced back at Jackson who was sharing a sheepish grin. "I've never seen him uncomfortable before."

"I didn't mean to say anything bad. It's just…he's usually so open so…" Melissa told him, feeling guilty.

Jackson waved away her apology. "Don't feel bad. Beaver wasn't the worst case in foster care, but his real folks almost starved him to death when he was maybe six. After that, after foster family after foster family, they were all poor and they didn't have a lot of food. So now every time he can get a little extra food he pigs out. It's not because he's a pig or selfish or anything. He's just concerned."

"Oh," Melissa murmured. She hadn't even thought about what could have happened to Beaver. She hadn't even considered the fact that he too could've been a foster kid.

"Are you cold?" Jackson asked.

Melissa just realized that she was shivering. "Yeah, I kinda am," she answered.

Jackson pulled up the end of the blanket he was covering up with and Melissa took the hint to sit on the bed, beside him, and share the blanket. She could feel Jackson's body heat radiating under the blanket it. She scooted over more so their legs touched. "Are you okay, Jackson?" Melissa asked, staring over at him.

"I'm fine," Jackson answered quickly. He was already tired of that question.

"I mean. Really," Melissa pressed. "Past all the injuries and problems. Are you really okay?"

Jackson was quiet for a moment. That was a deep question. "I'm not sure," he answered after a moment.

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"How close are we?" Daley asked Rodney. Rodney glanced down at the computer that now held their map.

"Still a good ways. It should really take four or five more days." Rodney answered

"That's insane," Nathan said, glancing down at the map too. "That's how long it took back in the eighteen hundreds. Are you sure he's telling the truth?" Nathan asked Daley.

"You saw the map. It's awhile away," Rodney said defensively.

"We'll, it's not like we haven't waited longer before now," Taylor chirped up.

"I think he's lying," Eric said. "We should…give him…a hundred whippings and then he'll think twice about lying again."

"Eric," Nathan said in a warning voice.

Eric shrugged and held up his hands. "Fine. But when he gets out of line because you refuse to show your leadership, don't get angry if I say I told you so."

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"What's your problem?" Taylor asked. She now stood in Beaver's door way. Beaver lifted his head to stare at her before lowering it back down onto his pillow.

"I've endured a large quantity of pain in my years of experience, and now I'm experiencing fatigue," Beaver answered. Taylor cocked an eyebrow. "I'm tired."

"Oh, well why didn't you just say that?" Taylor asked, striding into his room and sitting down at the foot of his bed.

"Do you want something, Taylor?" Beaver asked.

Taylor shrugged, leaning back against the wall behind Beaver's bed. "What's got you all twisted in a knot?"

"We're going back to civilization," Beaver answered.

"That's it? We're going home," Taylor agreed, cheerful.

"Not everybody has some big house and loaded parents to go back to," Beaver murmured.

Taylor pulled a bit of Beaver's blanket over her lap. She hadn't thought about that. She knew Jackson's past and she knew they both were hesitant about returning, but she hadn't thought that maybe they were better off on the island than home. "What's it like for you? At home?"

"There is no home," Beaver answered. "That's the problem."

"What do you mean?" Taylor asked, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"I ran away," Beaver answered, hating how lame that sounded. "I guess I pussied out. I couldn't deal with all the violence. I knew that it wouldn't end good so…I dip set."

"You mean, you really live on the streets?" Taylor asked. "That's terrible!"

"I know," Beaver murmured in agreement. "Things happen on the streets."

"To you?" Taylor pressed.

"Not yet," Beaver admitted.

"I'm sorry, Beaver," Taylor told him. "I guess everybody else was just so concerned about returning home for themselves, they couldn't think about how you and Jackson would take it."

Beaver shrugged. "I knew being on that island couldn't last forever. Humans have to congregate in a society sort. It's human nature. They have to act against each other or life, to them, is meaningless."

Taylor nodded. "We've been on that island for so long though, living at home's going to seem really weird."

"Soon the effects of the island will wash away…with all that sand water that everybody's sporting," Beaver said. "Soon the changes will reverse and everybody will be exactly how they began. Soon nothing will matter."


	21. Connections

Author's note - things are rolling right along smoothly. Sorry, I have been lacking on Jackson and Melissa, but you all must know these things take time. So, be patient. Because…I'm not sure how they're gonna work out…and thanks for the Beaver praise again. I enjoy writing his character too. Because I don't have to channel anybody. He's completely mine and that makes it easier to write him. Glad everybody likes him tho. And! If you don't, please tell me and let me know why.

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"I want to get something straight," Melissa said abruptly. Jackson glanced up from the folds of the blankets he was now staring at. "I want to know exactly how you feel about me, Jackson."

Jackson was quiet for a moment. "Alright."

"Because I'm tired of feeling like I'm being led on. I'm tired of feeling like you don't return my feelings and -"

"Melissa," Jackson interrupted. "I said okay."

"Oh," Melissa said quietly. "You don't like me, do you?" She asked. "You just act like maybe you do so I don't get too upset, right?"

"No," Jackson said. "I like you," he said. "Okay? I like you. A lot."

"Really?" Melissa asked, perking up slightly.

"Yes," Jackson answered. "I do really like you, Mel. You're my best friend. I just don't know what I'm going to do with that. I don't what to do next. I mean -"

Jackson was silenced as Melissa leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. Everything stopped as Jackson and Melissa became so intimate that they didn't hear the door crack open. Jackson and Melissa pulled back slightly, enough to get some air. "This clears things up quite a bit," Jackson breathed.

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"I wouldn't look at you twice if I wasn't stuck on a boat with you," Beaver told Taylor.

Taylor shrugged. "Is this how you homeless kids woo girls?" She asked. "Because, let me be the first to tell you, it's not working."

"You're not my type," Beaver continued. "You're preppy. And snobby. And worst of all…you're rich."

A grin slid across Taylor's face. "I thought the whole jist of you poor people was to go toward the money. I don't get it."

Beaver shook his head. "Taylor." Beaver sat up straighter, but Taylor moved across the bed to sit beside him. "Taylor, seriously. You're making me very uncomfortable."

"Aren't you just the cutest thing," Taylor murmured, pinching Beaver's cheeks.

Beaver swatted Taylor hands away. "I am not."

"Yes you are," Taylor argued. "You're adorable."

Beaver looked appalled. "I beg your pardon!" Taylor inched closer. "Wait, what are you doing? Seriously, back up." But Taylor had already pressed her lips against Beaver's and Beaver could reject her no longer. He faded into the kiss, and they moved together as one. Taylor tasted good, despite how long she'd lived on the beach. And Beaver was unfamiliar to Taylor. He was rough but considerate and inexperienced. It was adorable.

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"Daley, can I talk to you?" Nathan asked, approaching Daley slowly. "In private?"

"Sure," Daley said as he led her into a separate room. "What is it?"

"We'll be home in two days," Nathan began. Daley nodded in agreement. "So now that we're getting back into civilization, I think we should talk about us."

"Us?" Daley asked.

"What is this between us, Daley?" Nathan asked. "I like you and I know you like me. What's holding us back?" Daley opened her mouth but a shout from the captain's cabin interrupted her before she could answer Nathan. Nathan and Daley filed out of the room in quick order.

When they returned to the captain's room, Eric was on the ground and Rodney was pressing a gun against his head. "Is that my gun?" Nathan asked, entering the room.

Eric gave an uncomfortable laugh. "Yeah, about that -"

"No it's not," Rodney interrupted. "It's my gun."

"What are you doing?" Daley asked. "Why? We're two days away from shore. There's no where for you to run to anymore."

"We are approaching a small port outside of Washington," Rodney announced. "I will make my leave and you guys can keep the boat."

Daley shrugged. "Okay."

"No," a voice said from the doorway. Four heads turned to see Jackson filling the doorway, Melissa not far behind him. "You're not leaving us."

"That's touching," Rodney murmured. "Keeping me close, hm?" He gripped Eric's shoulder hard, ramming the gun against his head with more force. "But you don't have much choice. Do you? Again."

Jackson shrugged. "Kill him. And then what? Pick each of us off, one by one. You're still not running away. We are going back together."

Rodney shook his head, shifted his gun and fired off a round. Eric gave a cry before he realized it wasn't he who had been shot. Each pair of eyes attempted to follow the direction of the gun. But they didn't need to because Taylor collapsed behind Melissa. "Damn," Rodney whistled. "I was aiming for the Chinese chick."

Beaver had caught Taylor and lowered her to the ground and now he knelt over her, putting extensive pressure on her wound, which was just on her arm, but without adequate care, she could die. "It's okay, Taylor," Beaver murmured.

"I'm bleeding," Taylor gasped. "I can't the pain. Why can't I feel it?"

"Endorphins," Beaver told her. "They reduce the pain in the body. It's a defense mechanism, Taylor. It's a good thing." Beaver licked his suddenly dry lips. "It's not because you'll probably pass out soon but…" Beaver squeezed her arm tighter, feeling the blood slip between his fingers. "I'm not gonna let you die, Taylor."

Taylor reached up with an arm, tracing the line of Beaver's chin. "I know you won't," she murmured, her eyelids threatening to close. Beaver caught Taylor's hand before she let it drop. He squeezed it hard. "Stay with me, Beaver..."


	22. Friends

Author's note - I dunno why I paired Beaver and Taylor up. It wasn't because they needed to be together. There can be characters on shows without a significant other. It was random. I wanted Taylor there, to talk to him about home and whatever because they're complete opposites and it'd be nice. But then she kissed him out of nowhere. I thought it was adorable tho because he's reluctant. Because they are complete opposites and they're supposed to hate each other. So, now they kinda like each other and she's shot. And of course Jackson's gonna be pissed because he's got a soft part for Taylor too, even if it's nothing more than that. So keep reading.

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Jackson rushed forward, crossing the cabin to Rodney. "Stop it, Cody, or another one's gonna get a bullet." Jackson, of course, didn't stop. He knocked Eric aside with his foot, putting out a hand as Rodney pulled the trigger. Jackson rammed hard into Rodney and they both fell to the floor, struggling for the gun. But now there was blood on the gun. Nathan, Daley and Melissa all surged forward to assist Jackson because if Rodney did happen to get the gun back, nothing good would come from it.

Rodney did get the better of Jackson, rolling on top of him but before he could wrestle the gun out of Jackson's bloody grasp, Melissa kicked it hard, receiving a yelp from Jackson. The gun was knocked away from Rodney and Jackson and onto the floor. When Rodney reached for it Melissa stepped hard on his hand and kicked it further away, this time toward Eric who promptly picked it up, scooting away from Rodney.

Jackson managed to bring up his legs and kick Rodney off of him and onto his own bottom. Jackson could see the black dots dancing in front of his eyes, ebbing away the edges of his vision. His head felt heavy and he felt his breathing slow. But he also felt the unbearable pain, the senseless throbbing in his hand. He brought it up to his chest, but it felt like he was raising his hand out of water, the sudden weight of gravity almost too much. He gripped at it with his other hand, closing his eyes and welcoming the peaceful blackness.

Eric aimed the gun at Rodney who was now climbing to his feet, wiping Jackson's blood onto his pants. "You're not going to pull the trigger," Rodney purred. "Fucking pussy."

Eric chortled, tightening his grip on the gun. "Eric, stop it, there's too many people injured already," Daley said.

"Fuck that," Eric said, waving the gun around. "This bastard needs to be dropped like a dead skunk." Eric trained the gun on Rodney once more.

"Eric, stop it," Nathan said. "This isn't a game. If you shoot him he does die."

"All the more reason," Eric said.

Beaver struggled through the crowd that was smothering Eric and Rodney. He seized the gun from Eric's grasp and returned to Taylor's side, tucking the gun safely inside his pants. "I get the gun from now on. Psycho rich kids."

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Melissa paced the room feverently. Twelve paces forward, turn, twelve paces back, turn. Jackson had been unconscious for two hours, but that wasn't unusual, right? "Stop fucking pacing," Beaver said over his shoulder. Beaver knelt on the ground in front of Taylor who was sitting against a wall. Jackson was placed on the bed. Daley had wrapped up his hand with whatever the emergency bag had given them to work with. Beaver had taken up the opportunity to remove Taylor's shirt and bandage her arm. It was very intimate.

"Ow," Taylor said suddenly as Beaver wrapped another bandage around her arm. "Don't push so hard."

"I have to push hard, Taylor," Beaver told her gently. "You have to use force to stop the bleeding. Lucky for us, our blood generally clots quickly and within days the cut is healed."

"Within days?" Taylor asked.

"Well, not usually gun shot wounds. I mean - the bullets still in it. We usually have to burn the wound together so you don't bleed to death," Beaver replied solemnly.

"What?" Taylor asked outraged.

"But we won't with you," Beaver replied quickly. "Your blood is clotting just fine. It'll stop bleeding on its own."

"How do you know all this?" Melissa asked, coming to a stop behind Beaver.

"I spent a lot of time in the emergency room," Beaver answered brightly. "I guess even doctors get tired of answering questions."

"Life was really bad for you, huh?" Taylor asked seriously, putting a hand on Beaver's busy hands. Beaver reluctantly steeled his movement. He stared deep into Taylor's eyes.

"No worse than anybody else's," he mumbled, looking away

"It's not always a bad thing to talk about yourself," Taylor told him softly, reaching out to his chin and tilting it so she could see into his eyes once more "It doesn't make you vain, Beaver."

"I'm going to go get some water," Melissa said before slipping out of the room.

Beaver had began to finish bandaging Taylor's arm but now Taylor knocked his hands away. "I don't know how this whole…trust issue is supposed to go but bad things have happened to you. I know this. If you want to be weak, Beaver, I don't care. I just hate it when guys act like they're tough or something."

"Taylor, it's not like that," Beaver began.

"Yes it is," Taylor interrupted. "But I don't care."

"Then shut the fuck up about it," Jackson commanded groggily as he rolled over onto his side, instinctively pulling his hand up against his chest.

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"How you feeling?" Melissa asked softly, handing Jackson a water bottle.

Jackson took the bottle and dragged himself into a sitting position. "Thanks," he croaked. "But I'm fine. How's Taylor holding up?"

"Surprisingly really well," Melissa answered, sitting beside Jackson on the bed. "I think  
Beaver's really helping lighten her load."

"Beaver and Taylor," Jackson said with a controlled laugh. "I would have never placed them together."

"Because of Beaver?" Melissa asked. "Or because of Taylor."

"Because of both," Jackson admitted. "This isn't some from the wrong side of the tracks shit. Beaver hates rich snobs and Taylor hates poor…people. And Beaver's outspoken. He's unashamed of…anything. Taylor's the most critical person I've ever met. They're puzzle pieces from two completely different puzzles."

"I think they're real cute together," Melissa murmured.

"Yeah," Jackson agreed. "But I dunno how well Beaver'll handle this relationship."

"What do you mean?" Melissa asked.

"I know Beaver's outspoken but he's also withdrawn, Mel," Jackson murmured, before taking a long swallow of water. "I don't think Taylor can handle the whole waiting until he comes to you deal."

"Huh," Melissa murmured. "That would be tough to deal with."

Jackson glanced sideways at Melissa. "Is that some kind of hint I'm supposed to pick up on?"

"No," Melissa answered quickly. "Unless you want to?"

Jackson cracked a smile. "Well, I guess I can tell you about myself twice…" Melissa cocked an eyebrow but kept her mouth shut. "I was put into foster care when I was ten because I suffered from physical abuse. But a lot of the foster homes were a whole lot more than just physically abusive. There were other kinds of abuse. Things that no matter how hard I close my eyes they don't just go away."

"You mean -"

Jackson had began to nod. "Yes i do. Like I said, I don't know exactly what Beaver went through but I'm pretty sure it wasn't this. which is a good thing. But that's what makes us tick. That's why we're simple. Because of different abuse."

"Oh, Jackson," Melissa murmured. She wanted to reach out and touch him but she wasn't sure he wanted to be touched, especially after his history.

"So, are we supposed to hug or something?" Jackson asked, studying Melissa's face.

"Yes," Melissa said quickly, embracing Jackson in a tight hug.

"You don't hate me?" Jackson asked into her air.

"Of course I don't hate you Jackson," Melissa commented. "I could never hate someone as marvelous as you."

"Marvelous, eh?" Jackson asked, feeling a grin creep across his face. "I appreciate this, Melissa."

They parted but remained real close. "Don't act like I'm giving you something you don't deserve, Jackson. Because I'm not."

Jackson nodded. "Thanks for being my friend."


	23. desires

Author's note - Sorry if the last chapter confused anybody and sorry if it seemed rushed. It was a long chapter tho. So…more with that gun, eh? I dunno. It seems like there's a lot of violence in the story, but a violence-less story is what people call boring. So. Tell if me I'm over doing it. I'm trying to make the characters emotional, y'know because…well not everybody gets shot this often. That's three people out of like eight that's been shot. So…I like it tho…but…yes onto the typos. I am very sorry but I am very impatient. I have been proof reading the last five or six chapters tho - same with my smallville fic. I am trying to minimize the typos. So if anything in any chapter confuses anybody just send me a message and I'll try to clear it up. Thanks for the Beaver and Taylor praise too. I want it to be so that they bring the good (or bad) out of each other. Tell me if there's anything between them - or any characters - that you want to see. Lex will be in the chapter too - he's a little fella but he's hard to forget.

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"Has anybody ever considered suicide?" Beaver asked. Daley had opted that, as their last night on this boat, they have this kind of group thing, where they would congregate and just talk - share secrets and thoughts and concerns. Beaver was enthusiastic but he was most likely the only one - besides Nathan of course, who was overly eager to hear about Daley's personal thoughts. "I mean seriously, like deep thoughts. Like I'm dying tonight or…I'mma try again?"

As Beaver glanced around the circle, he was slightly abashed as everybody shook their heads. And then he glanced at Melissa, who was nodding. Beaver and Jackson exchanged glances because they knew that they'd each attempted suicide more than once, in more than one way. Fate obviously had other plans, right? "Have you attempted it?" Beaver asked.

Melissa was quiet for a moment, mulling the question over in her mind. "No," she finally answered. "But I was close once…"

Beaver and Jackson nodded, thinking back to their own personal experiences. When Jackson was 12 he tried to commit suicide for the first time, right after he 'lost his virginity'. He played it simple, overdosing on Valium. Due to his lack of luck, his adoptive mother, oblivious to all things that don't concern her, discovered him and rushed him to the hospital. The government was more than happy to help Jackson's 'condition', so they paid for his help. He was sent to a mental institution for 14 months. He never once told them about his experiences - why he was actually there - why he had actually tried to commit suicide.

Beaver was different, as usual. Beaver tried to die the more blunt way - he attacked his drunken, abusive, adoptive father. He was right close to dying too - but the neighbors had done a rather foreign thing - they had called the cops. Beaver had been right close to dying, like I mentioned before - he was bloody and bruised into oblivion. But nobody cared enough to diagnose his strong need to escape life, and he spent two months in the hospital.

That was what each of them took time to think about right now. But that was just the first attempt. Jackson only attempt suicide twice in his life before getting the better hold on himself. Beaver attempted it five more times.

"How many times did you attempt it, Beeve?" Taylor asked, studying his face closely.

Beaver's features shifted slightly, but it was devoid of shame or regret. "Six times," Beaver answered, sitting up a little straighter.

"Somebody must have been looking out for you, huh?" Nathan asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

"Yes, fucking satan," Beaver agreed. "I attempted it six times. Six fucking different times. How much of a fuck up could I be?"

Jackson was the only one that didn't stifle his chuckle. "How do you fail six times?" Lex asked, perplexed.

"I'm sure you've failed at…something, little man," Beaver said defensively.

Lex seemed to mull over the question a bit before answering. "No…not really. I can't remember ever failing at…anything." He shrugged. "Sorry."

"Speaking of suicide," Melissa said loudly. "How about we talk about something else."

"Alright. How about we talk about what we're gonna eat once we get back to civilization?" Beaver asked. "Because I'm gonna eat. For like three hours. I want some ice cream. Like right now." Beaver glanced over at Daley.

"Don't look at me, Beaver," Daley said. "We don't have any ice cream."

"I'm gonna eat chocolate," Melissa said. "Hershey. Milky way. Three musketeers…"

"I'm gonna eat chocolate too," Beaver said.

"And man, how long is the shower going to be?" Taylor asked. "Like three hours."

A grin crossed Beaver's face. "Three hours, Taylor. Just us and the hot water."

"Gross," Lex said loudly.

Beaver shrugged. "Not in a few years, it won't be."

"And I'm gonna sit in front of the TV for like thirty days," Eric said. "I don't even care if it's the news. I'm gonna watch it."

"I'm gonna listen to music non stop until I die," Daley said.

"We should have a pizza party," Beaver said. "Who's buying?" Beaver glanced around the group. "I'm serious…"

"I'll buy, for you, Beaver," Taylor offered.

"And me," Eric added. Taylor threw a look at him but he just shrugged.

Daley glanced up at the map in the ship's computer. She stood abruptly. "Guys. I think we're here."


	24. Memories

Author's note - This is definitely my most popular story, so I'm sorry, but I've been stuck. Now I'm kinda forcing myself to push on through with it because I can't just let it sit here forever. So, I hope ya'll appreciate the chapter. Reviews are much appreciated too.

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Melissa sank deep against her bed. It was just so soft, she couldn't stop speculating over the softness of this man made thing. Her father had been overjoyed, he wouldn't stop smiling, and he kept hugging her. He didn't leave her alone until she told him she was dead tired and had to get some sleep or risk fainting. Melissa hadn't looked too well, anyway - still bruised and cut up from her last encounter with humanity, but she was alive, which was more than he'd hoped for.

Of course, the first thing Melissa did was take a two hour shower, and then she cleaned the house of all the chocolate. It was good to be apart of a society. She'd never take it for granted ever again. Her father was more than happy to give Jackson a ride home, but the truth was - Jackson had to go home, and Melissa didn't want to let him go. Beaver had no where to go, though, so Melissa's father - Kelvin, had been more than happy to set up the couch for this kid.

Yes, Taylor was Beaver's first choice. But they were back in society now. Taylor's instincts and her own common sense had kicked in and she had told him - as nicely as possible - that her father would hate him. And after so long, she just didn't want to displease him, not now.

"Pssst!" Melissa lifted her head. "Are you asleep?"

"What's wrong, Beaver?" Melissa asked, allowing her head to drop back to the pillow.

Beaver took her answer as an invitation and he proceeded to enter the room. "It's been so long," Beaver murmured. "I mean, people don't often give you a place to sleep, food to eat…free…I don't know what to do. I can't sleep, not like this…not…in this situation. It's uncomfortable."

"You better be joking, Beaver," Melissa warned him. "It's been two months since the last time I got a decent night sleep, Beaver. It's not uncomfortable for me so…"

"Oh…" Beaver murmured, pacing back toward the door. "If I'm bothering you…"

"You know you can't just leave like that, Beeve," Melissa sighed. "What is the matter? Really?"

"Your dad's real nice," Beaver murmured, leaning back against the closed door and sliding down to the floor.

"That's the problem?" Melissa asked, propping herself up on her elbow.

Beaver cracked one of his smirks. "No. I dunno. Maybe. I've spent so long detesting authority just to detest them that…I dunno how to react when they aren't…authority like. Y'know?"

"No," Melissa admitted. "He is like everybody I've grown up with, mostly. That is my family out there Beaver. And yes, he is nice. I was lucky. But that doesn't mean you should be set off by him. Roll with his behavior, Beaver."

Beaver studied the carpet a few feet ahead of him. "I'm not sure I know how."

"What do you mean you don't know how?" Melissa asked.

"I don't think," Beaver admitted. "I know I know some stuff, but how I treat people…how I react, I'm not sure I can change it. I don't want to offend anybody but…I can't change. Not really."

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Jackson spread out across his bed, taking the smell of the freshly clean blankets in with a big breath. His foster parents had seemed excited enough. Or maybe that was just relief. What would've happened if he hadn't come back? Like Abby, or jordey? What could their parents be thinking now, knowing that their kids weren't quite so lucky. What could possibly be going through their minds after hearing that these teenagers merely thought about themselves and left their children, their family, behind? They couldn't ever forgive them. And Jackson wouldn't blame them if they never did. Abby would be pissed, not to mention the captain.

Jackson ran a hand across his now bare chest. His ribs were aching, and once he'd removed his shirt, he could see how red they were, but they were surprisingly devoid of bruising. His back though, his back was killing him, and no matter how many pain killers he took, the pain still persisted.

Jackson smirked. They'd simply left Rodney behind. After Rodney had attempted yet another betrayal, Jackson had opted to turn the tables and lock Rodney in the brig - the sort of temporary jail system ships have…or that ship had. Rodney had been pissed, and his temper went through the roof when Jackson shackled him to the bars. They'd simply left him. Hopefully the police would find him before he starved, but Jackson couldn't exactly say he cared all that much. He didn't.

Melissa had told him something before they'd parted. She had stated before that yes, she did like him, quite a bit actually, but he still couldn't figure out why. He was anti-social. He was brutal. He was barbaric and not from her world - not in the least. But she had told him something before they parted. She had told him that she loved him.

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"Is Lex tucked in?" Daley's father - Allen asked softly.

"Yeah," Daley said. "He passed out, but I always thought he slept pretty well even on the ground..."

"C'mon sweetie," Allen murmured, pulling Daley into another hug.

"I missed you too, dad," Daley murmured into her father's shoulder. "I missed you so much."

"I'm just glad to have you both back, in one piece," her father admitted. "If something happened to either one of you...I don't know what I'd do."

"The team was pretty effecient," Daley murmured. "We all looked after each other, dad."

"Thank god," Allen murmured. "Lex's mother...you know Pamela...she was going crazy...I'm just...I've never been this happy before in my life, Daley."

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Taylor leaned back in her chair. It was the perfect chair, really, and probably the thing she had almost missed the most. It seemed to absorb her and wrap comfort around her body. She'd taken a shower for probably no less than four hours, scrubbing the salt off of her body and out of her hair. It took her at least a bottle of shampoe to get rid of the smell of the island. She wanted to forget it forever.

Taylor closed her eyes, tilting her head back. Beaver was this strange boy that was forced into their lives, but even then he hadn't shown that much emotion. Yeah, when he had an asthma attack, that was traumatic, but he didn't freak out. If he had, he'd probably have died. He always seemed like this cool guy, that was showing everybody the side of him that he wanted them to see.

Taylor could see his face now, in her head, when she had told him that her father wouldn't approve. She had actually seen the pain cross his face before he stuffed it back down and shrugged it off. Beaver liked her, and she was pretty sure that she liked him just as much. But Beaver was poor, he had absolutely no money to his name. He was rough and filled with many sharp edges. The kids at school, her parents, no - they wouldn't understand. You can't just like someone. She didn't want them to pick at Beaver until they forced him away.

"I'm sorry, Beaver," Taylor murmured.

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"Hey, turn off the lights." The shout filtered through the walls, reaching Nathan's ears loud.

"Okay," Nathan shouted, reaching out an arm to flip off the light switch. He was just as happy as any of the survivors to make it back home, but it was just so foreign now. His parents had actually cried. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen real tears in their eyes before. But they'd cried, and made this huge Thanksgiving like dinner - all for him. He was overwhelmed.

Nathan couldn't possibly say how he expected their return to go, but this wasn't even in his mind at the moment. He figured most of the parents reacted much like this, except for the parents, the families that didn't get their children back. Not yet, anyway. But Nathan made himself promise that they would tell the authorities first thing in the morning. They still had the general idea of where the island lay from here. They would send help.

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Eric turned over onto his back. Normally, he was a very heavy - very quick sleeper. But he just couldn't find a means to sleep. He'd waited for this moment for two months. Wasn't he the one that always brought up the want to go home? Wasn't that him? And yes - his home wasn't perfect. People think it is - it's like they see money and they automatically link it with happiness. Those are lines that should never be drawn.

His parents were divorced, and his father was remarried to a bitch and his mother remarried to a dick that liked to use his pyhsical bruteness as a persuader. They shared custody, and they were both rich. But he was with his father now. His mother was supposedly the one that had 'lost' him. They did nothing but argue when he'd called them. He was sure they were happy, somewhere deep down inside of those shells that now possessed his parents. But they didn't show much eagerness when he actually got home. His mother had left - but at least she had come to see how he was.

Eric wasn't hurt, maybe sunburnt really bad but - all he walked away with was a shiner where Rodney had hit him and a mild headache. Things were good for him. Taylor and Jackson had been shot. Before they got to go home - they had to go to the hospital. Melissa was scared for life. He got off light. And he did knwo that he probably deserved the worst out of the entire group.

He was now trying to fall asleep - a feat he hadn't deemed as difficult before. He'd waited for so long to feel the soft comfort of his bed beneath him but now the joy of even that had vanished. He felt lonely. That's what it was. He'd slept with six other people for the past month or so - crammed inside a tent, and now he felt lonely - stretched out across his bed. He'd felt lonely for so long before - he couldn't even identify how he felt on that island. But it wasn't lonesome.


	25. disconnected

Author's note - I've never had anybody thank me for a chapter - so thanks. I appreciate it. Before I was stuck. Because they're back at home and I wasn't sure what to do next. But after sitting down to write that chapter, it's like it all came undone. I'm amaze at how well it all came out. And yes, I am also happy I showed them all and their reactions to being home - so now -- Jackson's not the only one not liking the new arrangements. In the future - you'll see what happens to Beaver - because he can't live with Melissa forever. You'll see what happens with Beaver and Taylor's relationship. What happens to Jackson because of what he'd done before he left - that fight and whoever got hurt. And hopefully more things I haven't yet thought of. This story could go on forever - so tell me if you really think I should just cut loose and end it all.

The ending's lame - but I couldn't think of anything else…next chapter will be better. I added a J/T moment. I know it's probably surprising to some but - don't worry, next chapter they'd be more moments with them - hopefully. And Beaver and Melissa are becoming closer friends. It won't be anything more than friends - but I think their friendship is really important. And I kinda wrote this before I read all the reviews - so sorry if they don't meet your wishes - next chapter will have more J/M. And whatever else people want. I just wanted to continue it for now. So, enjoy.

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"Beaver, wake up," Melissa murmured, kneeling beside Beaver. She reached out a hand and shook him gently. He'd stayed in her room for the night, sleeping on the ground. Melissa wasn't sure if it was the comfort of a couch or being alone again that really put him off.

Beaver jerked awake, lifting his hands defensively. "It's just me," Melissa said quickly.

"What time is it?" Beaver asked yawning.

"Eight," Melissa answered. "Want some breakfast."

Beaver sat up quickly. "Sure," he answered calmly. "What is it?"

"French toast," Melissa answered. "Eggs. Some toast if you want."

"Are you sure your dad doesn't mind?" Beaver asked, letting Melissa help him to his feet. He stretched. "I mean, I am eating his food."

"I told you last night, Beaver," Melissa told him gently. "He likes you. And you're kinda…appreciative. He's completely okay with it."

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"You don't have to come back to school for another week," the secretary in the office told Taylor gently. "Are you sure this is what you want? Don't you want to let your arm heal first?"

"It's not gonna disappear in a week," Taylor told the lady for the second time. "I don't want to sit around the house any longer, so yes - just give me my schedule."

The secretary shrugged. It wasn't like she actually cared. Taylor was here - alive, so what's there to worry about? She fingered through a stack of papers, eventually pulling out a single schedule. She handed that schedule to Taylor, who took it quickly and promptly left the office.

Taylor eyed her classes, recognition hitting her quickly. These were the classes she had signed up for last year. First hour wasn't supposed to start for another fifteen minutes, but she wanted something to do - she wanted somewhere to be. Algebra. Why had she signed up for that again? "Whatever," Taylor told herself, forcing herself to go in the direction of room G-115.

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"What are you doing back so early?" Eric asked, approaching Taylor quickly form around the corner.

Taylor shrugged. "I never thought I'd say it but…I had nothing better to do."

"Funny how friends disappear when you're gone for two months," Eric murmured.

"Didn't they give you time off too?" Taylor asked.

Eric shrugged. "The only thing I had to do was stay home and listen to the rents argue. Believe me, it's not exactly pretty."

"We're pathetic," Taylor said miserably.

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Nathan slid back in his chair, trying to stare straight ahead. English class - he used to think he almost enjoyed it. But that was back when Daley was nothing more than a rival. Daley sat a few seats ahead of him, and now she was all he could think about. Every poem the teacher read, he was forced to link it to Daley. When had he changed? Did he notice the change the before? No. Nathan had thought he'd remained the same, but that wasn't true. And it wasn't entirely because he'd been stuck on an island for so long.

Daley didn't seem that different, not to Nathan. She was a lot nicer to him, but he just figured that was because they'd spent so much time together. She had gotten to know him - and he'd met her inner side too.

Intense situations force people together, because they now suddenly have something in common. They feel like a team, because they're forced to endure the same thing. But now that Nathan and Daley were back in society, what if that familiarity between them suddenly evaporated? What if their feelings for one another no longer existed?

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"What are you doing here?" Taylor asked, sliding into her seat in Algebra, beside Jackson. Before, when he'd started the semester, she had almost been disappointed - to be stuck next to the new kid. The freak. But now she was relieved. Finally - a friendly face.

"They wouldn't stop staring at me," Jackson murmured, leaning back in his chair. "I wanted to get out, I guess. How's your arm?"

"The pain killers the doctor gave me helped a lot," Taylor admitted. "It's fine. It's gonna scar badly, though."

Jackson nodded, staring down at his hand that laid on the table. The doctor had wrapped it tightly and then put a temporary brace on it. He'd dealt with casts and other stuff like that before, but this was different.

"Are you okay, Jackson?" Taylor asked.

"I'm fine," Jackson answered automatically.

"Are you sure?" Taylor asked. "Because -"

"Taylor," Jackson interrupted. "It's okay. You don't have to be concerned. I mean…what would people think, right?"

Taylor's face rushed red. She wasn't sure if she should be angry or sad. Taylor turned quickly, straightening in her chair. She folded her arms across her chest and focused hard on the teacher that had just entered.

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Melissa sat heavily on the couch. She flipped through the channels, but seriously, it was day TV. Soap operas. She settled on a random soap opera, glancing to the side when Beaver made a snort. "Hey," Melissa said sharply. "Don't judge me."


	26. Reassimilation

Author's Note - thanks for the reviews. Some of them are really flattering. I love how people comment on my writing. It makes me feel good. So -- here's the next chapter. I have a new story - it's called ours is not to reason why and it's a teen titans comic story - but it's centered around Bart Allen. I also wrote a one shot for veronica mars (for Beaver). So I haven't been doing nothing, y'know. But anyways. Thanks for the feedback. This story is by far my most reviewed so, let's hope it lasts for a while, right? It's hell of a long story anyways. But I've read longer. This chapter's short - but the next one will be longer - with everybody else's interviews.

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"What?" Beaver asked, exasperated, leaning forward slightly. "So he just…they just killed him?" He asked, not bothering to mask his disappointment and surprise.

Melissa nodded slowly, letting a smirk rise to the surface. "He was evil, Beeve. They did a good thing?"

"But that wasn't his fault!" Beaver argued. "He was only out for revenge. So what if he accidentally killed a few people? Jeez, woman, you sure are tough on humanity."

"It's a show, Beaver," Melissa murmured, striding forward to switch off the TV.

Beaver opened his mouth to reply but the loud knock interrupted him. Melissa lifted her head slightly. "It's Jackson," Beaver answered.

Melissa glanced at Beaver. "You can't know that by one knock."

There was another knock. "You're right," Beaver agreed. "Let's put money on it."

Melissa narrowed her eyes and rose from the couch. "I don't think so," she muttered to herself. She pulled open the door without looking through the peep hole. It was Jackson. Melissa glanced over at Beaver who was showing a large grin. "Stupid psychic," Melissa muttered to herself.

"What?" Jackson asked, glancing over at Beaver too.

"Come in, Jackson," Melissa murmured, ignoring his question and stepping aside to allow him room. Jackson entered her house, taking in the new surrounding at a glance. She had a modest house - a nice home. "You okay?" Melissa asked, studying his face.

Jackson nodded. "I'm fine. I actually came by to check up on you. Are you okay? You and Beaver…everybody else went back to school…"

Melissa nodded. "I'm fine," she replied. "I just…I wasn't ready to go back to school today. I don't know how I'm ever going to re-assimilate myself back into that school. It was hard enough the first time, but now everybody knows me…everybody knows what happened."

Jackson nodded. "Yeah. I know. The others aren't taking it quite so well either. People like to judge. They say they're sorry but…I don't know…"

"How's Taylor taking it?" Beaver asked from the couch; which he was spread out across, folding his arms beneath his head.

Jackson glanced over at beaver. "You really care, huh?" He asked seriously.

Beaver hesitated before nodding solemnly. "Yeah. I think I do."

"She's not taking it well," Jackson admitted. "She's been rejected, I guess. It's like somebody opened this door for her and now she can remain blind in the face of it no longer."

"Wow," Beaver murmured. "You're a poet."

Melissa grinned, looking up at Jackson. "She must feel terrible," she murmured.

"I would too," Beaver agreed. "If I had shut me out like she did. I'd be filled with regret. She knows where you live right, Melissa?"

"They've hired a psychiatrist," Jackson told Melissa as they both ignored Beaver. "They think maybe we've been traumatized and talking to a complete stranger will somehow help us."

Beaver shrugged in the background. "Sometimes strangers are the only people you're brave enough to talk to. Their opinion doesn't matter so why hide what doesn't need to be hidden?"

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Dr. Brennan - the hired psychiatrist - leaned back slightly in her chair. "Take you time," she murmured. "Tell me about what happened, on the island. How did you survive for so long?"

Taylor shrugged. "I don't know how we survived. Lex and Daley, they built this whole system. They found food and they created this water system. Lex made this amazing shower…"

"You kids did all of that? On your own?" The psychiatrist pressed.

Taylor nodded. "The island was disserted," Taylor said automatically. "Who was supposed to do it for us?"


	27. Confessions

Author's note - what happened to Rodney? He is a forever present, isn't he? I keep forgetting to include him, but don't worry - you'll know what happened to him soon enuff. And as you'll see with this next chapter - everyone will be going through therapy because what they all went through was pretty traumatic - this also includes beaver because maybe he was traumatized too. That's all this chapter is - so prepare to learn new secrets about the team. The chapter will include therapy unless you guys don't like it - I just don't think one chapter is long enough to include eight individuals fully.

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"I was only on that island for like two days," Beaver told the psychiatrist, leaning back in the chair and folding his arms across his chest.

"A lot of psychological damage can happen in that amount of time," Dr. Brennan assured Beaver.

"Yeah, but dude, I think once you've spent the night on the street -- spending two days on a tropical island would be cake." Beaver shook his head. "There's nothing the matter with my head. I'm perfectly fine."

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"Yeah," Melissa answered. "I have nightmares, sometimes."

"About what happened on the island?" Dr. Brennan asked.

"Not about what happened," Melissa said. "About what happened after we'd discovered there were other inhabitants. And not always about what happened, sometimes about what could've happened."

"Why don't you tell me what happened again," Dr. Brennan suggested. "With the other inhabitants," she added.

Melissa leant back against the couch, trying hard to conjure the previous memories. "Okay," she agreed. "We heard music one night," she began.

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"It was my fault any of us ever got caught in that situation," Jackson admitted, leaning forward slightly, bracing his hands on his knees. "We heard music at night once and I told them that it wasn't anything to worry about."

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"Yeah," Eric said. "He was wrong. They attacked us. I nearly got a stick through the side."

"That must've been very traumatic," Dr. Brennan commented.

Eric shrugged. "Not as traumatizing as having his psychotic brother take everybody hostage."

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"It wasn't Jackson's fault," Melissa murmured. "Everybody knew of Jackson's background before the trip. They didn't know what he'd done but they assumed it was bad stuff. I was the one that wanted us to give the free trip to him because I knew he couldn't afford it."

"Why did you want him to accompany the group on that trip?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Melissa shrugged. "I think I had a crush on him. Even before I'd ever met him. He's a very pretty boy."

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"Melissa came to me and told me about this trip," Jackson told the psychiatrist. "I know I wanted to go but I told her I couldn't afford any of it. I thought that'd be the end of it but then she came back to tell me that she'd talked the committee into letting me tag along for free."

"How did her persistence make you feel?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Jackson thought deeply. He hadn't ever thought about his feelings toward Melissa before. Not from the beginning. "I don't know," he answered eventually. "I was grateful. I couldn't understand why she'd do something like this to begin with, something so selfless. I was amazed."

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"I know everybody didn't want Jackson to come along in the beginning," Nathan said. "But after we were all stuck on that island, it was like Jackson had become our rock. We were all so pampered that there was no way we would've survived without Jackson."

"But you didn't like Jackson," Dr. Brennan argued. "Why didn't you like him?"

Nathan shrugged. "I didn't know him," he said. "I didn't know how he would react if things got too out of hand. I'd heard the rumors and given his M.O., I was afraid that when the going got tough, he'd get violent."

"And did he?"

Nathan shrugged. "No. He never got violent, even when we kept persecuting him, he never got violent, not toward us."

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"It must've been tough to live on an island for so long, for someone your age," Dr. Brennan began. "How did you survive for so long?"

Lex shrugged. "I'm smarter than I look," he commented. "I was finally winning over everybody's respect when we were rescued.'

"You're the only one that calls what happened a rescue," Dr. Brennan commented. "Why?"

Lex shrugged, trying hard to think about why he thought it was a rescue. "We were hopeless before. Everybody had pretty much given up on any hope of escaping. But even though Jackson's brother was ruthless, he provided everyone with a way out."

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"I wouldn't exactly call it a rescue," Daley commented. "He was a merciless madman and we all could've been killed. He crushed Jackson so completely. If I'd known rescue was going to be that risky, I wouldn't have prayed for it for all those weeks."

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"I think it was a rescue," Eric said quickly. "That psycho put us through hell, there better've been some rescuing going on."

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"I have nightmares," Taylor confessed. "Every night."

"What do you dream about, Taylor?" Dr. Brennan asked gently.

Taylor stared deep into the space in front of her. "Before the only thing I used to fear was myself and the day I'd die."

"Everybody fears their own death," Dr. Brennan murmured gently.

"But that's not what I dream about," Taylor said. "I dream about Jackson dying. And Beaver. I've never woken up with so much energy before in all my life. But these past few days…I can't sleep…"

"This Beaver?" Dr. Brennan asked. "You two have a relationship together? He doesn't go to your school and he said he was only on the island for a few days. How can you have a relationship with him?"

Taylor hadn't considered their relationship before. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "I guess with all the tension on the boat and whatever….I like him. I've never liked anybody so…he's like an animal, but not a bear or anything dangerous like that. He's like a stray dog. And I want to pet him sometimes…"

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"What am I supposed to say about Taylor?" Beaver asked.

"How do you feel about her?" Dr. Brennan asked a second time. "What is your relationship with her?"

Beaver shrugged again. "I guess I like her," he murmured. "I've never liked somebody like her before. She's like this princess, all pampered and unaware of the world around her. I know their kind and I've never liked them but…When I met her she was somehow different. She had this princess face, but the princess wasn't there."

"Why do you like her?" Dr. Brennan asked. "Why do you like her specifically?"

Beaver narrowed her eyes. "You're the psychologist, you tell me why."

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"Why haven't you returned to school?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Melissa leaned back slightly. "I don't know how to face them," she answered. "I don't want to deal with their faces, and their complaints. Everything just seems so minimal now. What we did on that island…we fought for our lives…I don't know if I can go back to life now…going to school every day with people who have things handed to them."

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"They're jerks," Eric said nonchalantly.

"I hear you didn't have quite the desirable reputation in the beginning either," Dr. Brennan commented. "Those jerks were once your friends, weren't they?"

Eric shrugged indifference. "Well things change right. People change."

"Do you believe you changed?" Dr. Brennan asked, eyeing Eric.

Eric avoided her stern stare. "I guess," he answered. "I think they're jerks, that's a change, right?"

Dr. Brennan slid her glasses further up the ridge of her nose. "Why are they jerks, Eric?" She asked. "What changed in them?"

Eric shrugged. "It's like they've been treated a certain way for too long that all they are is that way. Their parents are rich but not nice. I think that's why I befriended them to begin with. We had something in common. But something changed. They didn't change, they act the same, telling the same tasteless jokes but…I'm not laughing anymore. It's like they've had things handed to them for too long that they wouldn't know what to do if those things suddenly disappeared. I used to be like that but now I know I can survive without all this money and these needs. I can survive on my own now and suddenly that gives me this feeling that our lives are kind of meaningless. We go to school and do the same things everyday just so we can live in this society where things are pretty much taken for granted. I don't want to live like this anymore. I want to get things that I know I've earned in some way. I want to know that if I'm stranded somehow, I won't die. I want to know that I know how to live."


	28. Analyzation pt 1

Author's note - I appreciate the feedback. I dunno how I'm gonna fare well now that I'm done with the last chapter. I agree, it probably was my best. I like getting down to the point and addressing people's feeling's. I'm hoping to get the group together - in separate groups - if that makes sense, to discuss their own problems. And thank you - melreincarn, for mentioning my Lex insight. I hadn't thought it out entirely, but it seemed like out of everyone he would considered it a rescue - and in truth, due to his age, he probably is the only one that has nothing to lose by returning home.

This is part one of two. This is only about half of the people - the other half is next time. Sorry it took so long, I've been exhausted lately - and I was even freaking on spring back. But I'm back in school now so...it should be back in order. Sorry if these analysing chapters are boring you, tell me if they are.

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DAY 2 with the psychiatrist.

"Teenagers scare the shit out of me," Beaver admitted, kicking his legs up onto the coffee table as he leaned back in the psychiatrist's chair.

"Excuse me?" Dr. Brennan asked.

"They're heartless lil' buggers," Beaver explained. "Always thirsty for violence. They don't care as long as someone bleeds."

"You didn't answer my question," Dr. Brennan told him gently.

"Yes I did," Beaver told her. "Read between the lines."

"Melissa said you ran away from home due to physical and emotional trauma," Dr. Brennan told him.

Beaver cocked an eyebrow. "Funny, Melissa never talks with those big words around me."

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"I don't feel comfortable talking about Beaver," Jackson told Dr. Brennan.

"By revealing his history to me, you're not betraying his trust," Dr. Brennan reminded Jackson gently.

"Yeah, but if you're asking me about him that means that he hasn't told you himself," Jackson said with a shrug. "I don't want to tell what doesn't need to be told before he does."

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"I don't know his history," Taylor admitted. "He grew up in the same conditions as Jackson, I guess. They just act different."

"Different how?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Taylor shrugged uncomfortably. "You've talked to them both. Jackson's quiet, calculative. Even if he doesn't talk, he always seems to be thinking. Beaver is spontaneous, impulsive. He's not very secretive."

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"Beaver gets uncomfortable if you ask him certain questions," Melissa said. "I don't know him very well but I don't need to know every detail about his history. He grew up in foster care because his mom was poor. That's about as much as I know."

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"He's alright, nothing special," Eric revealed.

"Could you elaborate?" Dr. Brennan asked.

"Well, when Jackson came to our school, he was suddenly this big mystery. It took us forever to figure anything out about him. He was so fucking secretive, like he has something to hide." Eric paused until Dr. Brennan stopped writing. "But this Beaver, he's different. He's nonchalant. Like he's seen everything before; like he doesn't really care what people say when he turns around."

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"What about Jackson?" Lex asked, trying to get a clear understanding of the question before he attempted to answer it.

"I am trying to compose an analysis of each individual based on everyone's separate view of each other. What is your view of Jackson?"

Lex thought about it for a minute, letting his mind wrap around the question. "He was the first person to ever listen to me," he told her. "The very first day, before he even knew me or any one else, he listened to me - when even Daley wouldn't. No one's ever ignored my age like he did before. People don't like being showed up by a ten year old, they find it embarrassing but Jackson didn't mind me telling him things - telling him how to do things. He didn't care."

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"He was creepy," Taylor said, thinking back to the first few days on the island. "It was like he lived in this different plane of existence. Nothing any body did seemed to touch him. Until we all started to ignore Lex. Jackson sorta became his spokes person. Which was creepy too."

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"Yeah, I voted for him as leader."

"Why?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Eric shrugged. "Nathan and Daley were getting old. Before this trip they'd been in this campaign for class president. It was like the exact same thing - trivial. Jackson was excluded, from everything. I figured that was the kind of leader you should want."

"An uncaring one?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Eric shook his head. "No. You don't want a Hitler. Jackson stood away from the group but I think out of everyone he was the one that saw every single thing that was happening. He was a freaking plague, refusing to leave you alone for a moment. He was dependable."

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"I think he really felt like he had to prove himself, in the beginning," Nathan said. "When we were running out of food. I admit it, I had to prove myself too. While I went looking for fruits and tropical food, Jackson tried to fish. He delved into it, refusing to quit until he'd caught a fish."

"Did he succeed in fishing?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Nathan nodded. "Yeah. We ate well that night."

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"We've been friends since before I was a foster kid," Beaver said. "We used to go to the same school. We had a friendship that never wavers no matter how much time passes. Before I was taken hostage by Rodney, I hadn't seen Jackson for over a year. But somethings just don't change."

"Jackson hasn't changed?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Beaver shook his head. "Everybody changes, Doc, given enough time and substantial experiences, both of which were afforded to Jackson in insurpassible numbers. Our relationship - it doesn't change."

"How do you build a relationship like the one you two own?" Dr. brennan asked.

Beaver shrugged. "We shared time in juvi hall once. It was my fault but Jackson didn't belly up on me. That experience forced a tone over our friendship for the rest of our lives. What we experienced there, it can never be forgotten. But it was shared together. We bonded through tragedy. We fused ourselves together, hoping that as a whole, we'd somehow survive."

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"Me and Eric were friends when we were younger," Melissa said. "He was an awkward teenager, but he grew out of it. I guess I never did. He grew out of our friendship, and into less pleasant friendships. He wanted a certain image, I guess."

"Who is he now?" Dr. Brennan asked. "To you?"

Melissa thought about it. Who was Eric, deep down? "I think he's a rat, at times," she admitted. "He's sneaky, and selfish. But sometimes, I guess he listens to some voice deep inside of him, because sometimes, he's different. Sometimes he's the Eric I used to know, back when looks and apparances didn't matter so much."

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"When I think of Eric, I think of rat," Nathan said. "Because that's what he is. Self-centered, sneaky, spoiled. There is not enough negative connotations in the english language for Eric."

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"Rat," Daley agreed. "He seemed like such a burden in the beginning. He was always trying to shirk his work. He seemed to want the maximum outcome with the minimum effort."

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Taylor shrugged. "He didn't care a lot, in the beginning. He was always bailing on work, but Daley always singled me out, like I was the only one. I wasn't! Nobody bothered Eric - until they got desperate. It's like people took different routes when we irritated them. They'd ignore Eric, like he was the worst person on Earth and they'd bother me until I did someting."

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"i'm not that bad of a person," Eric told the psychiatrist. "I just don't like doing stupid things for nothing. I hate wasting energy."

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	29. Analyzation pt 2

"I know I'm not this perfect person that people feel they can go to when they need things," Taylor commented. "I'm not Melissa and most of the time I don't care what's going on. I don't care...I'm not Daley, I don't need to control everything to be involved. I only need to be involved with myself." Taylor paused but the psychiatrist didn't push her, she gave her time. "I know how selfish or whatever that sounds but...I don't know, I can't make myself different. I can't make myself change. I'm sorry."

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"Haven't you already asked me that question?" Beaver asked, pulling his jacket tighter around him. "I don't know why I like Taylor. I already told you what I think about her."

"What do you know about her, though, Beaver?" Dr. Brennon pressed.

Beaver shrugged. "You don't really sit down and have a chat during a hostage situation."

"You don't need to talk to know someone, Beaver," Dr. Brennon said. "You've stated that quite clearly with Jackson."

"But that's not the same," Beaver insisted. "I don't need to know Jackson. Nobody does. He's just this...I don't even know. Taylor's different. You can't commit to what you don't know."

"Are you committed to Taylor?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Beaver hesitated. "I don't know," he admitted. "I want to be. I want to be there for her, I want it a lot. But I don't know if she wants people waiting there. Some people just want to be able to walk away and have nobody follow them. What if Taylor's one of those people?"

"Do you think she needs her space?" Dr. Brennan asked. "Do you really think she wants to be alone?"

Beaver shrugged. "I don't know," he admitted. "She seems like the kind that want to have everyone there, waiting for her to fall just so they can have the chance to catch her but...I don't know if that's really who she is. Because people like that...they don't end up catching you when you fall because they're too concerned with themselves." Beaver paused. "And she's already caught me, Doc."

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"I don't know," Jackson said. "I know how she seems, you must know her type. Everyone does. That's the problem. When people get these stupid ideas of how other people should be they...I guess they start catagorising people by themselves. I hate it but I guess that's what I did...to all of them. I made Taylor, and Nathan and Daley, i made them into these people they weren't. I mean, they might've been these people before the crash but after...after the crash, everybody was different. I think Taylor took it the hardest; I think she changed because she wasn't able to survive, not how she was, not how she thought and regarded everything. Taylor's strong, stronger than anybody I've ever met -- because I met her when she was weak."

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"She was probably my best friend on that island," Eric admitted. "It wasn't because there was something between us - there wasn't. We just...god I don't even know what happened between us. We bonded. She was the one that I was forced to relate to."

"What do you mean by 'force'?" Dr. Brennan pressed.

"Do you want me to look up force in a dictionary or something?" Eric asked. Dr. Brennan didn't comment but Eric was overwhelmed with the urge to explain himself. What was that about? "I know people think they have this godly ability - they can change just whatever they want about themselves, but it's not like that. I guess I didn't mean to get to how I am, and I don't even know how that happened, but I can't change it now. You know people bond with other people like themsleves, that's humanity. Taylor was like me."

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"She was terrible, in the beginning," Daley said. "Everything was terrible in the beginning. I guess we just got tired of arguing, tired of having some tedious problem every day. We change. I don't know when it happened, but I guess, it was carried from day to day by stupid little things we did for each other. They wouldn't even mean anything here, not now, not then. But the fact that we sacrificed ourselves everyday just to please somebody else who was a complete stranger a few months ago...I guess that meant something."

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"Taylor was a burden," Nathan said. "She changed though. I mean, she was still very burden-ie, but no longer a burden. I guess it was that chilloween thing that was the starting point of her change."

"Chilloween?" Dr. Brennan asked, glancing up from her notes to look at Nathan.

"We were stuck in this sort of rut," Nathan replied. "Taylor made up her own holiday. Chilloween. In the beginning it seemed like an excuse for her to do nothing, like usual, but it went well. We learned a lot about each other. She was different. Or maybe she wasn't. I don't know. Maybe she just showed everyone a side of her that's always been there, right underneath the surface. Maybe she hasn't changed at all, maybe she's just...shifted layers, I guess."

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"I don't really get involved with these things that happen between them," Lex said. "Who I know these people as are different than who they know each other as. Taylor didn't like to exert energy, she didn't like working. It's because she's had so little work in life, but everybody still gave her a hard time. I accommodated her a little bit, little things. I didn't mind her as much. She was nice to me most of the time. It was a different relationship."

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"We had a bad start," Melissa said quietly. "We weren't really friends at school. We didn't really talk. She was popular...and I kind of wasn't. But being forced together forced us to talk. She'd get angry over stupid things, things that seemed like they should matter but when you're fighting for every minute of you life...I don't know, you just learn that very few things matter. We were losing touch of life, of everything that any of us cared about because we were forced to live away from it all. Taylor was this persistent reminder of everything we had left behind. She refused to change, she refused to acknowledge the danger we were in. Maybe she saved us, maybe we would've been too far gone to ever readapt to our lives if she hadn't been there. I don't know, but it didn't seem like she matter that much at the time."

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"I used to hate her," Nathan said. "Daley. We had this adversary going on, even before the crash. She was supposed to be my enemy. I was supposed to hate her more than anyone. I don't know what happened. I don't know why I stopped hating her."

"Maybe you don't know why you started hating her," the doctor prompted.

Nathan shrugged. "It seemed so natural I never thought of questioning it; not until I realized I didn't hate her. I liked her. A lot."

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"She was a bitch," Taylor said. "She was bitch even before the trip. I knew she was going to be a bitch but...I didn't know it'd be so bad. She was always complaining, there was always something that wasn't going right. And it was always her job to right everything. She's a bitch."

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"I don't know what I thought of her," Melissa said. "I try not to make judgements, because they're hard to change. I don't want to force people into these ideas that I have of them. She liked to be in control. She liked to be the leader. But everyone needs a leader.

"If she was a good leader, why did the group pick Jackson?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Melissa hesitated for a moment. "I can't speak for everyone else. I was just as shocked as he was. Everyone was supposed to hate him...because people hate what they don't know, right? I chose him because he seemed the strongest out of all of us. We were this group of rich kids, spoiled, naive. Jackson came from the streets, or those were the rumors. He was strong. We needed a strong leader, a realistic, down to Earth leader. He didn't care enough to be unfair. He kind of hated us all equally, in a way. Daley was bias, and so was Nathan. They both thought their own ways were right, but Jackson didn't have a way. He gave everyone an equal chance. Daley wouldn't have been able to do that."

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"I was okay with her being the leader," Jackson said. "I know everyone is supposed to want to be the leader. If you have the power then nobody can blind side you, you'll always get your way. But maybe sometimes you need to be denied something, anything. They think they need someone that's strong yet not dominating. They're wrong. They need someone that wants to be their leader. I never wanted to be the leader. Daley seemed the right choice. She knew how to lead."

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"She's my sister," Lex said. "I don't know how valuable my analysis of her will be."

Dr. Brennan nodded. "It will probably be the most valuable. You are unguarded of her, Lex. You see her at the worst. You know her the best."

Lex shrugged. "I guess so. She's a little controlling but you have to understand, she means well. She always means well. She's my best friend. You would think she'd be angry, being in the same grade as her little brother but she handles it the best, always looking out for me, even though we're not even blood. She's my best friend."

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That is it, my little ducklings. I hope you enjoyed this bit, the next part is the last part of the analysis miniseries. But don't worry, I'm complete with the chapter after the last analysis chapter. So after I write the next chapter - you'll get a surprise of two chapters. Sorry if that confused you guys. But yes...enjoy! And always remember, if anyone has a question or a bother, send me a pm, I'd be glad to answer any questions.


	30. Analyzation pt 3

Author's note - I know the shippers want to see...whatever ship they're for - which is probably jackson/melissa, they're adorable, huh? But there won't be a lot of that in this chapter - they'll be jackson's opinion of melissa tho. There won't be much of them in the next chapter either...because I actually planned ahead -- go me, right? But don't worry, they'll be some of all that in a few chapters. I'm sorry if I'm putting the relationships progression on hold for a while -- but soon it'll be back in order - so hang on for a few more chapters. Until then - enjoy the last analysis chapter --

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"Lex was an outcast," Eric said. "But it was like by default," he added. "Jackson was an outcast because he was a freak. Lex was an outcast because he was different."

"Is there a specific meaning between the two you are trying to get at, Eric?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Eric shrugged. "I dunno. I was trying to be philosophical."

"What did you mean, Eric?" Dr. Brennan sighed. "What is the difference between them?"

"You've met them both, right?" Eric asked. "You notice those little things that aren't the same between them? Well those are the differences."

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"I dunno him," Beaver said shrugging. "I was on a ship with the kid for like...I dunno, a few days. And we played a game of I spy but...you don't really bond over I spy..." Beaver paused. "He's a genius."

"He's already told me that, Beaver," Dr. Brennan said.

"Oh...he told you, huh...What else did he tell you?"

"This isn't a trick question, Beaver," Dr. Brennan said. "You're not being graded on anything, if you don't know him, I'll accept that."

Beaver shrugged. "I guess..."

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"He's a little strange," Jackson said. "I guess that's always been the difference. It's not his fault that he's strange. He knows these stupid little details that probably saved all our lives hundreds of times. Stupid things nobody else would bother to remember."

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"He has a photographic memory," Beaver said. "Do you know what that means, Doctor? That means that every thing that has ever happened to him skipped right over his short term memory - it's all still lodged there inside that abnormal little brain of his."

"I'm aware of what a photographic memory is, Beaver," Dr. Brennan assured him gently.

"That means that every thing that any body ever said to him, he remembers it," Beaver continued. "That means that he must have a really long flashback when he's about to die - beause he'll remember everything. People think it'd be awesome - never forgetting anything. How much simpler life would be."

"Is it simpler, Beeve?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Beaver shook his head. "No. It hurts your brain. Nobody cares to think that maybe it's good for you to forget things. Nobody cares enough to figure, hey, maybe forgetting all those times that somebody poked fun at you is a good thing. It damages you, inside, deep deep inside. Every waking moment there's a dead memory weighing down on you, tearing you apart, forcing you back to that exact moment in time - refusing to evaporate. And for a genius too. That sucks."

"You do not view his abilities as gifts?" Dr. Brennan asked, knowing very well that Beaver indeed did not.

"No," Beaver said indignantly. "Do you know how much pressure it is, to have this ungodly intelligence and this useless photographic memory. Can you conceive the burden that these things are?"

"Can you?" Dr. Brennan pressed.

Beaver let out at a loud sigh, collapsing against the couch. "Lex is out in the open. People know why he's weird. For me...they just think it's me. It's been there - always mutating, becoming more apart of me by the day. Lex is able to separate himself from his memories and brain. I don't know if I can't. I can't shut up before my thoughts and ideas come out. I can't stop answering questions."

Dr. Brennan nodded. "Maybe you know Lex better than anyone else, Beaver."

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"Beaver took my answer?" Eric asked. "That's so like him."

"Why don't you tell me why you think they're so different," Dr. Brennan suggested.

Eric shrugged. "Fine," he sighed. "But it won't be as philosophical now. Lex doesn't have a choice - everyone secludes him. Because he's like what, eight? Nobody wants to hang out with an eight year old. Jackson though, if he wasn't so freaking...freaky -- he could actually be somebody --- Thus he secludes himself. They're different kinds of freaks."

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"He's kind of adorable," Taylor admitted. "I like him. He's a kid, but he knew a lot more than any of us did...about anything. He was like this...I dunno, mini life raft. He couldn't save us but he could keep us afloat...hey, you know, that kind of sounded good. I just made that all up too...man I'm good."

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"He's probably the best out of us," Melissa admitted. "I know people would like to think kids are useless but...I guess not all of them are. Lex was this -- he was just so irreplaceable. We were all worrying about problems and Lex was...He always seemed to be thinking up these new theories. He really tried to further our progress. He wanted to get saved but, he was very calm about it. It was scary at times."

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"Nathan," Jackson said. "I don't know what to say about him."

"Why did you hate him to begin with?" Dr. Brennan prompted.

Jackson shrugged. "I don't hate a lot of people, I didn't hate him. I just..." He paused, taking a deep breath. "I hated the situation. They were talking about me. I know it's stupid, the things they said wasn't even the worst I've heard but...I hate the same predicaments, every day. I hate seeing people, people like them, laughing about things like there's nothing more important. He just...I guess I was irritated. I felt like I had to prove, even if it was only to him or Daley, I needed to prove that these rich kids can lose."

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"Nathan's been my best friend since first grade," Melissa said. "It's so common, I don't even remember why we became friends, but I'm glad we did. He's a good friend." Melissa paused for a moment before continuing. "He's loyal, I trust him with my life. I know that no matter how bad things get, he'll never leave me -- not if I need him. He's not a jerk, even if it seems like that sometimes, he just...he gets scared at times, in uncharted territory. He gets scared."

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"Pansy," Eric said. "That's what he is. Pansy. He gets scared so easily."

"Would you like to elaborate Eric?" Dr. Brennan asked.

"No," Eric answered. "Alright, yes I would! He's like Daley, but worst. He has to get everything from a stupid hand book - and half of that didn't even work. They're both power hungry bastards."

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"He used to be competition," Daley admitted. "I think it changed when we stopped fighting for control. When we just let everything fall into place, I think we found that we weren't half as bad as we thought we were. He's not a bad person. He's loyal, if that's what you're looking for. He's considerate. He tries his best to consider other people's feelings."

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"Melissa was like the perfect person," Nathan said. "It's like nothing can touch her. She was so kind, so...considerate. After all she'd been through -- you have to understand - she wasn't ever popular. She's been made fun of, but I don't understand why. She is the nicest person I've ever met. I'm just happy she's a friend."

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"Yeah," Eric murmured. "She's pretty hard to hate, isn't she - with her unable to hold grunges and everything."

"She mentioned that the two of you were once friends," Dr. Brennan commented. "What happened?"

Eric shrugged. "You sure pry, don't you, you little vixen," Eric said defensively.

Dr. Brennan shrugged. "Do you care to comment on why you ended your friendship?" She pressed.

"Fine," Eric snapped. "I know she's nice, but...she's not that good for your..." He paused, lowering his voice for the next word. "Image." He nodded slightly. "I was stupid, I know that. She was a good friend and all I wanted was to be remembered. Mel will never be remembered -- not by anybody at that school. All I wanted was to be remembered."

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"She's relunctant," Jackson commented. "I know the type. Beaver used to be like that. It's like, they've been insulted so much that they don't like to put themselves out there because they're afraid that what people have to say about them, about who they are, they're afraid it won't be nice. They don't want to be hurt. She doesn't want to be hurt."

"How do you feel about her fragile state?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Jackson shook his head. "I said she was hurt, I didn't say she was fragile. Mel is strong. She's very strong, just...resistent, I guess. It's like she delves into everything so completely, but she doesn't want to. She doesn't want to embrace anything because she doesn't want to be rejected."

"Are the two of you...together?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Jackson nodded solemnly. "Yeah, we are."

"You speak of her with this...intensity," Dr. Brennan admitted. "It's almost as though you've been studying her."

Jackson smiled sheepishly. "I try not to but...I can't help noticing the small things. Those are the things that matter."

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"She's a good person," Beaver commented. "She's a weird one. I know people want you chicks to be this certain way but...I dunno, sometimes guys actually want girls with substance. Melissa isn't the ideal substance. Guys want these amazingly beautiful girls, with brains and boobs. No offense, Doc. Melissa isn't one of those girls. She's not this barbie doll figure. I know that should throw some people off, and it does, but not me. Not that i'm like that with her, because I'm not. I don't get like that with a lot of people. But Jackson doesn't fall for barbies either. Melissa's special."

"Is she your new special friend?" Dr. Brennan asked.

Beaver raised an eyebrow. "Well when you say it like that..." he sighed deeply. "She seems eager," he said after a moment of thought. "I mean, she is so very eager. It's not that she's eager to be accepted or anything, I can't see her saleing her soul for a few friends. But she wants you to like her so much, it's weird...it's like it's hard not to like her. And that's not a problem - because she's a very good friend. I have loyal friends - but my friends aren't both loyal and eager. She wants to please people so much. It's very rare, to find that in somebody." He nodded slightly. "She's very rare."

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"She was key, to the team," Daley said. "She was always there, always eager to help. She would do anything, if that anything progressed the group. She sacrificed herself so completely. She was very valuable, without her we would've been lost. We would've ripped ourselves apart long before we ever returned home."


	31. Bully

Everyday your parents are forced to relinquish their hold on you - just long enough for you to go out into that world; just long enough for you to kill yourself every day, trying to be something you are not just so your life is that much easier. People are unnecessary beings, thriving in that which they should not -- violence, melicious joy, destruction. People pull themselves apart, and then they laugh when there is nothing left, nothing more than the evidence of their self destruction.

"What are you doing here, Beeve?" Jackson asked, approaching his relunctant friend. Beaver was a year younger than him, but because of Jackson's schooling (or lack there of) he'd been held back a grade. Beaver should be in school but he was not. He thought he was past all of this, he thought what had happened at his last school had been enough to push him over the edge, enough to give him a reason to never come back; not to a educational facility, not again. He was wrong.

"It sounds stupid now that I've gone all the way across town to talk to you but now that I'm here --" Beaver began. Beaver hadn't ever been a person to begin his reasons with a big open sentence. He usually was really blunt, and Jackson appreciated that, but now Beaver was timid. Before it usually meant that he'd never spoon feed Jackson bullshit, but Jackson wasn't so sure anymore.

"What is it?" Jackson asked, leading Beaver away from the student body and into a secluded corner. He peered closely at his friend's face. "Beaver, what's the matter?"

"I ran into Rodney," he said, his voice lacking the general confidence Jackson had been associating with Beaver since the seventh grade.

Jackson stared hard at Beaver, but even Beaver's dodgy glances away couldn't quite convince him that his friend was lying. Beaver hadn't ever lied to Jackson - hadn't ever shied away from his questions. He wouldn't diminish the relationship now. "Where?"

"A few blocks from Melissa's," Beaver answered quietly. "He's reconciling. With his gang. not all of them but...you know how loyal they were...before."

Jackson nodded before glancing across the rapidly emptying studnet center at a clock on the far wall. School was still in session for another two hours and that voice in his head, the thing that Dr. Brennan had identified as the superego was telling him not to skip, _it was telling him that skipping would have serious repercussions_. "Are you okay, Beaver?" Jackson asked, studying his friend's face. Beaver's face was paler than Jackson had ever seen it before, a few plotches of red outlining his cheeks; there were dark circles under his eyes and Jackson just noticed the unrythmatic rise and drop of Beaver's chest. "Did you run here?"

Beaver shrugged off his question, glancing away. "I'm fine, Jackson." Beaver glanced away again, glaring at the passing students. "I just wanted to let you know about Rodney, okay?" Beaver attempted to back away from Jackson but Jackson moved forward, gripping Beaver's arms in a soft but firm grasp. "Don't do this, man..."

"Why didn't you ever tell me what Rodney did to you?" Jackson asked, pulling Beaver closer to him.

Beaver looked away, pulling away. "What are you smoking?" He asked when he couldn't escape Jackson.

"What did Rodney do to you, Beeve?" Jackson asked, backing up so he was further in the corner. Beaver looked down and then away. "Beaver, just tell me."

"I can't Jackson," he mumbled, backing against the wall, Jackson moving closer to him. "I'm sorry," he gasped.

"What are you so afraid of, Beaver?" Jackson asked quietly.

"Only what's out there," Beaver answered. "I'm sorry," he repeated. Beaver untangled himself from Jackson and stumbled back against a kid who was rushing past them, late for class. Beaver hadn't heard the final bell but he still lurched to the side, away from the kid. "Sorry, man," he mumbled. The kid nodded meekly and rushed past them.

"Beaver?" Jackson asked, staring closely at Beaver's downcast face.

"You always worried about this, didn't you?" Beaver asked suddenly, staring after the kid. "We grew up in the worst schools, broken down -- the only ones that needed metal detectors but didn't have them. People always thought we'd have a shooting -- gang related. But we didn't, did we, Cody?"

"What are you talking about?" Jackson asked.

Beaver nodded after the kid. "What do you fear?" He asked, glancing to the side. Jackson shrugged, unsure of the answer his friend seeked. "Being helpless," Beaver murmured. "That's the real thing, right? That kid has a gun, Jackson."

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The gun shots echoed in the distance and Eric jerked his head up quickly. "I'm not dreaming, right?" he asked Nathan quietly. "Pinch me."

Nathan shook his head but pinched Eric anyway, ignoring the loud hiss of pain. "that was a gunshot," he said quietly.

"That's what I thought too," Eric admitted. "But dude, here? Nobody would - "

"Don't you watch TV?" Taylor asked, turning in her chair to face the two. "Don't you know how many school shootings there's been?"

"But those were all poor kids, right?" Eric asked. "Nobody here is poor, Taylor."

"Are you high?" Taylor asked. "You know there's ton of poor kids here, you just ignore them, Eric. They used to be your friends."

"Who do you think it is?" Nathan asked worriedly. "I mean...nobody we know right?"

"Remain in your classrooms," a loud voice commanded over the intercom. His next words were indistinguishable, covered up by the loud echoes of gun shots and screams of terror and pain.

"Oh god," Nathan said.

"He can't go in every classroom," Eric told himself quietly. "He can't kill everyone, Nathan. Right? Right?!"

"He's not after everyone," Melissa said, pulling a chair over to the table.

"But I wasn't..." Taylor paused, rethinking her question. "I'm not _that _mean, right?"

Melissa shook her head. "Not that mean," she said quietly.

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Daley opened a classroom door quickly and pulled Lex into it, aggressibely locking the door behind them. "What are we going to do, Lex?" she asked. "What is gonna happen to us?"

Lex held up his hands calmly. "I don't know, Dae," he said quietly. "There's someone in this school with a gun. Even if we don't die, which, chances are we won't, this will stay with us forever. We may never heal completely; we will never be able to trust another person ever."

Daley stared hard at Lex. "What are we going to do?" She asked, quieter this time, sliding to the ground, her back against the door. "What are we going to do."

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"In here," Jackson said, pulling Beaver into library.

"Right," Beaver said, closing the door behind him. "What killer goes to the library?"

Jackson stared hard at the students in the library. They were all staring at him, their hands slightly raised in the air. "What?" Beaver asked them, coming up beside Jackson.

"You guys aren't..." a kid began. "You're not the shooter?"

Jackson's eyes narrowed, his face turning harder when Beaver erupted in laughter. He glanced to the side at Beaver who stopped laughing abruptly. Beaver quickly made a move for his coat, laughing loudly again when several students flinched back. "Just kidding," he offered in between laughing fits. "Kids these days, so impressionable."

"What happened?" Jackson asked, approaching a wounded student who was sitting on the ground, his arm cradled against his chest.

The kid looked young, probably new, just in his freshman year. He'll be scarred for the rest of his life. The boy relunctantly shifted his weight, moving his arm so Jackson could see the wound. Jackson knelt beside him. "We need to stop the bleeding," he said, glancing over at Beaver. Beaver nodded and gestured for a kid to give him his shirt. It was an overshirt, but the kid was still relunctant.

Beaver knelt beside the boy, and wrapped the shirt around the bleeding wound, tying it tightly, trying to ignore the grimace and grunts of pain. "Sorry," Beaver told the kid quietly. "It's okay, kid. It looks like he missed the bone. Your bone would've been a bitch to heal. Do you know how long it takes the bone to heal?"

"It doesn't matter, Beeve," Jackson told him.

Beaver shrugged, rising to his feet. "Yes, it does -- because he might still bleed to death. The cops will wait outside - till everything blows over; it could take a while..."

Jackson nodded and helped the boy to his feet. "What's your name?" He asked.

"Klause," the kid answered, mustering the energy to conceal his pain.

"I'm Jackson," Jackson told him, leadin him to the door. "This is going to be a little...um, stressful, but we can't stay in the library. You understand?"

klause nodded. "Yeah. I don't want to die," he told Jackson quietly. "I'm fucking fourteen, man...I don't want to die."

"You're not going to die," Jackson assured him, leadin him around the corner. "Alright? Do you trust me?"

Klause was silent for a moment and then he nodded. "Yeah, I trust you."

"Stop," a voice commanded from behind the trio. Beaver stopped automatically but it took a few more shouts and the cocking of a gun to stop Jackson. Jackson walked backed to Beaver who was frozen to the spot.

"He's needs medical help," Jackson told the shooter, a sophomore named Chad, gesturing back toward Klause. Klause had grown pale, his healh fading fast. Klause was watching Jackson intently. "He'll die if he doesn't get it soon."

"I didn't mean to shoot him," Chad told Jackson. "I didn't want to hurt him. I'm sorry," he told Klause. "I only wanted to shoot them."

"Who?" Jackson asked.

"You don't know who I'm talking about?" Chad asked sarcastically. "You've barely been here at all, but you know the ones I'm talking about - the ones who are pointing at you, laughing when you turn around. You know who I'm talking about."

Jackson nodded. "I do," he said quietly. "But you shot this kid." He gestured back at Klause, more aggressive this time. "This kid is dying and you shot him. Let us go, let him get help."

Chad was hesitant but then he nodded. "Only one," he said quietly. "Only one goes."

Jackson glanced back at Klause, who looked unsteady on his feet as it was and then he turned to Beaver. "Go, Beeve," he said. Beaver began to shake his head. "I know you need this Beaver; please, just go."

"Alright," Beaver said quietly, slowly inching toward the freshman. He took Klause by the arm and gently led him to the door, uttering soft assurances to him.

Beaver couldn't say who had called the cops, but there were three cars parked outside, several cops guarding the doors with raised guns. Beaver stopped abruptly, the guns aimed on the pair. He held up his hands, still leading Klause into the crowd. Two cops rushed forward to klause, quickly whisking him away, the rest crowding Beaver, turning him around and handcuffing him to eliminate the danger.


	32. Regrets

Author's note - I wrote all of these shooting chapters before the tech school shooting so I didn't draw any inspiration for that event at all - but it is depressing. I drew inspiration from one tree hill and the shooting episode, no surprise right? I will say that after editing this chapter and fixing all my typing errors - and adding random lines that didn't come to be the first time through - I am seriously proud of this chapter. I think I like it the best out of all of them, this is definitely my favorite. So please review, and tell me what you liked and didn't like. I like to hear what you all have to say. There's a lot more chapters to come and I'll update again in a day or so, to give people time to review, so you better review...the next chapter's done - except for the editing so it'll be here right quick. Please enjoy, it's pretty great, if I don't say so myself.

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"We can't stay here," Melissa whispered. The teacher had left the room, to pursue the principal, to pursue help that wasn't going to come. "Jackson, Daley and Lex are still out there. We can't stay here."

"I can," Eric said loudly, receiving several approving nods from various students around the room.

"We can't go against a gun, Mel," Nathan said.

"I know but --"

"What? Whoa, whoa, whoa," Eric said, rising to his feet. Two people had just rushed into the room, one locking the door behind them.

"Jackson," Melissa said, quickly standing and moving forward to Jackson. "Are you okay?" She asked, trying to look into his eyes. Jackson shrugged, walking forward. Melissa followed him, sitting down in a chair beside him, never taking her eyes away from his downcast face.

"I'm fine, Melissa," Jackson murmured. "Stop staring at me."

Melissa frowned but looked away anyway. "You led him here," Eric told Jackson.

"Shut up, Eric," Nathan ordered.

Chad leaned back against the door, slowly itching his head with the barrel of the gun. "It sucks, doesn't it, Eric; being told to shut up?" Eric didn't answer. "Doesn't it? Doesn't it!"

"Y-yeah," Eric stuttered. "It sucks," he mumbled.

"It sucks," Chad agreed, tiredly wetting his cracked lips with a hesitant tongue. "Being ignored every day; knowing that if you never came back, no one would notice. You life is meaningless," he addressed the class as a whole. "They think they're preparing you for the world, when they know just as well as we all do - there is nothing out there. There is no meaning. Just die - no one's gonna care if you do."

"It's high school," a kid in the back of the room said. The kid was an elementry friend of Melissa's, his name was Marshal. As high school classes forced them apart they'd lost touch, but never forgot each other.

"It's inhuman," Chad disagreed. "How they...they hunt you, like you're no longer worthy of being a part of the same species as them -- like you should be ashamed, that you're not born into the same upstanding family...the same wealth. They'll never hunt, not me, not anyone. They'll never hurt again after this.

"You're supposed to let it go and grow up," Marshal countered. "Yeah, they're mean. Go home and cry and then move on."

Chad waved his gun forward, training it roughly on where Marshal was sitting. "Shut up. You can't tell me that. You can't honestly say that you don't relate to me. I've seen how they treat you. You should be happy I'm doing the thing you were to pussy to do yourself."

"I wasn't scared," Marshal said slowly. "I was taught morals," he said quietly. "What you're doing...you think this separates you from them? In the beginning, you were always higher than them, even if you were unhappy. You started higher, because you were born into this little thing we like to call reality. They never were - they still think what they do, what they are -- they still think it all matters. But you and me, we all know it doesn't. You're lowering yourself more every second you're in here - trying to intimidate us - like you're one of them. You're no longer better than them. You're worst - because you're fatal."

"I wasn't always like this," Chad told him, desperate for someone to believe him, someone to accept him.

"I know," Marshal agreed. "Everyone knows who instigated this all, no one will blame you -- when they think of you. But at your funeral - they'll still say that you should've shrugged off all the teasing -- you should've let it all go."

"I tried," Chad shouted, pacing back and forth in front of the chalk board, occassionally throwing threatening glances in Marshal's general direction as he waved the gun. Marshal flinched back slightly. "I tried to ignore it all, I tried so hard. I did. But they just...they wouldn't leave me alone. I couldn't live, I couldn't go on, knowing this was my life for another three years...it was torture...they all deserve this."

Marshal nodded. He knew that he'd gone home many days, pissed at the world; wanting nothing more than to kill off a few jocks. But he never went that extra step, that extra step that Chad had gone. "Everyone's been there," Melissa murmured softly. "You're supposed to get past it, grow up and be some...underground artist; embrace the torture -- let it shape you into something more...you're supposed to get past it."

"I don't care," Chad said. "They were supposed to treat others how they wanted to be treated. They got what was coming."

"Why are we still here?" Eric asked. "None of us teased you."

"Except for my best friend," Chad said, moving the gun from Marshal to Eric. "You."

Eric raised an eyebrow. "Dude, once," he said defensively. "Go out there and kill some of those bastards that teased you every day. I made fun of you once."

"My life was fine, Eric," Chad said. "Until you reached this peak of popularity in eighth grade. What you did to me -- people still make fun of it. You started it all. Care to end it?"

Eric shook his head. "You can't be serious."

"As serious as a gunshot wound," Chad said, recocking his gun.

"You can't shoot me," Eric said quickly, stumbling to his feet and backing up a few clumsy steps. "We've been friends since the fourth grade, Chad."

Chad shook his head aggressively. "No," he shouted, waving the gun forward. "No. The friendship means shit if you backstab them. That's not friendship, Eric!" He heaved a huge sigh. "It's not friendship..."

Eric waved a hand. "Alright, I'm sorry," Eric told him.

"Sorry's too little too late, Eric," Chad told him quietly.

"No, it's not," Eric argued. "I'm sorry I ditched you, okay? I was stupid. And Melissa, I'm sorry I completely destroyed our friendship. And I'm sorry I totally misjudged you, Jackson and treated you like something I'd just scraped off the bottom of my shoe, alright? I'm not sorry how I treated you, Nathan, because you're an overachieving know it all. And Marshal?" Eric began, turning to throw a glance at Marshal who wwas also on his feet.

"Hey, man, we were never friends." Marshal said.

Eric shrugged, turning back to Chad. "Oh yeah..."

"You're only sorry because someone confronted you, you little rat," Chad shouted. "That's not how it's supposed to be! You're supposed to be sorry before you ruin other peoples' lives; that way you can stop yourself, rodent. You knew there was no reconciliation - you knew what you did everyday could never be undone. You knew it all, Eric! And you didn't care, not until someone stood up to you."

"Hey," Eric said defensively. "I am sorry."

"He's really sorry," Melissa agreed. "He's not the same person he was a few montsh ago, Chad."

"You accepted his apology before he gave it," Chad told Melissa quietly. "I'm sorry that your friendship didn't mean that much to you but it...it did to me. He ruined my life, Mel. I can't let that go with an apology. I'm not you."

"Oh," Melissa said, unsure of how badly Chad had just insulted her.

Chad gave Melissa a sad smile before turning back to Eric and lifting the gun. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. "Let's see how far this apology gets you."

There is always regrets. Everything you do stimulates innumerable possibilities of alternatives, thus forcing you to acknowledge all the regrets you should have but don't (if you're lucky or a jerk). Not everyone considers the regrets before they act upon their instincts, but this doesn't make their actions accidents; this doesn't mean that people should pity them and accept their too easy apology, this doesn't mean they deserve forgiveness.

The gun shot echoed loudly in the closed quarters but when the students recovered from the smoke and noise, it was not only Eric who was injured, lying on the ground. The movement had happened so quickly that no one quite managed to register it. Marshal had moved forward, already mentally preparing himself for this before the time had come; now Eric was sprawled on the floor, dazed and confused.

"Oh my god, Marshal," Melissa said, moving from her chair to Marshal.

Chad stumbled back. "That wasn't supposed to happen."

"That's what happens when you bring a gun to school," Nathan told him angrily.

"Shut up," Chad shouted. "Sit down," he ordered the students that had moved to see the damage. "Sit down," he shouted when few complied and then he shot into the ceiling. The students fell away, moving like a sheep flock, but Melissa remained, and Jackson slowly moved to her side. He pulled her into a huge, deep hug that seemed to last forever, unbound by the silence of the room. When they pulled away he inspected Marshal's wound.

"It looks bad," Melissa said quietly, as Jackson pressed his hands hard against the wound in Marshal's shoulder, successfully ignoring the young boy's grunts of pain; the blood flowing quickly through his fingers. "He needs a doctor, Chad," she told him softly.

"I don't care. He got in the way," Chad said.

"You're shooting the wrong people," Jackson said, but Chad didn't grace him with a glance. "He's bleeding."

"He'll die," Taylor said. She had moved to the ground too, hovering over Eric, who had taken a shot to the arm, she followed Jackson's example and managed to almost stop the blood from escaping the wound.

Chad waved his gun toward Taylor who visibly shrank back, closer to Eric; and then Jackson who held Chad's gaze steadily. "I can't let another student go. I'm sorry."

"No, you're not," Melissa said angrily, glancing over her shoulder at Chad. "He will bleed to death and it will be your fault, Chad. You must know what happens when you shoot people." She paused but Chad didn't answer her. "He was your friend," she said sadly, glancing down at Marshal's pale face and unfocused eyes. "He was our friend."

"Fine," Chad shouted. "Okay!" He waved the gun toward Taylor. "You, princess, take him out."

"Okay," Taylor said loudly, jumping to her feet.

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Jackson and Nathan were the ones that had helped Marshal to his feet, Melissa shying away, covered in his blood, trembling uncontrollably as though she too could convey his pain. But Marshal was weak and Taylor exerted more energy than she was used to -- trying to help him down the hall, but he still sagged against her - the strain of his efforts evident on his face, his blood smeering her shirt. Melissa had showed Taylor how to apply pressure to his wound and Taylor proceeded to do so, Marshal gripping an arm across her shoulders tightly, moaning softly - his breath slipping across her ears and down her burning cheeks every time her grip on his wound shifted and a new surge of pain raged across his body. Trembles kept raking across his frame, and Taylor couldn't help assuring him that everything was in fact going to be just fine, but the cracks and trembles in her voice told him a different story.

"You're a better person than I took you for," Marshal slurred, dipping his head down slightly, feeling his energy quickly disintegrating.

"It was," Taylor began but stopped herself. "Thank you for...doing what you did for Eric," she murmured. "It was very heroic, especially since he didn't really deserve it."

Marshal attempted to shrug, grimacing in pain. "He used to be such a good kid," he muttered spacedly, his unfocused eyes remaining glued to the ground, but still not really seeing the tiles as they disappeared under their feet, covered in the blood trail that they were leaving behind.

"Eric?" Taylor asked, glancing down at Marshal's pasty face with a look of confusion. She looked away before he could muster the energy to reply.

Marshal gave her a pained smile but she didn't see it. "Chad. I never thought he'd be able to..." he paused, coughing, trying to turn his head away from Taylor. "He never would've been able to do this to people," he said quietly, his voice raspy, raw. "Not before high school...the kid buried road kill...for god's sake...he held little...individual funerals for all the...he called them less fortunates...like they were orphans of...animals..."

"I'm sorry," Taylor told him, pausing to pull open a door. She inched the two of them through it, steadying Marshal when he stumbled and didn't quite manage to catch himself, his feet slipping easily on the blood that he left in their wake. "I'm sorry for the things I've said to you, or anyone else, ever...I don't want to be the cause of something like this. The things I did to people, I guess I never thought of how it felt. I was so stupid."

Marshal nodded - a mere bob of his head that didn't quite manage to pull it back up to the starting height. He let it sink further down, almost resting against Taylor's shoulder. "Problems begin at home," he told her, his voice barely above a harsh whisper as she pulled open the front door. The cops were still there, but they didn't rush her like they had rushed Beaver -- they helped the two away from the door, rushing Marshal away to the waiting ambulence, almost dragging him before they managed to pick him up and carry him, insisting that Taylor come too, she might need medical help. She told them that she didn't, then she saw Beaver, sitting a few feet away at an isolated wooden table. Taylor cut through the cops to go to him.

"What are you doing here, Beaver?" Taylor asked, mentally noting her own suprise at how calm her voice suddenly was, as she sat on the table beside him. He was no longer handcuffed, but she took notice of the faint red marks around his wrists.

"Who's blood is that?" Beaver asked, taking in Taylor's blood soaked shirt; the smeers of blood across her neck and arms, the dots along her cheeks and forehead.

Taylor shook her head. "It's, uh, a classmate's," she answered. "Marshal. Eric could die, Beaver. And I just left them."

Beaver shook his head. "I left too," he murmured.

Taylor leaned against Beaver, pressing her sweat soaked head against his suddenly strong chest. "People like me...we started all of this," Taylor mumbled against his chest. "It's people like me, Beaver. I'm so ugly inside, how could you ever like me?"

Beaver raised an arm and slowly stroked the back of Taylor's head, pressing her closer to him. "You're just so darn hot on the outside," he joked. "I don't know why people insult each other," he told her softly, his attitude changing completely. He sighed deeply, feeling her head move with him, and liking the pressure that he put on his chest - liking the presence that she represented. "You guys feel like you fit in, so you seclude everyone who doesn't - because it makes your fit that much more tighter. It's probably our animal instinct. But the fact that you know it's wrong, Taylor -- you don't understand how valuable that really is." He bent his head and kissed her hair softly. "I like you, Taylor. I like you alot."


	33. Author's note

I'm sorry, I was always apprehension for useless chapters to be converted into authors' notes but…yeah. I'm in school and I felt bored, this what happens. If you don't care what I have to say – just skip this, unless you can't…hah…you probably can – the date is april nineteenth and a new chapter will be posted tomorrow. I just wanted to comment on the previous chapters.

I know that before I've touched on pretty serious issues – I'm not a hater of comedy – obviously, but I like touching on the serious, controversial issues – that's just who I am. But I think school shooting is pretty damn serious.

I also think that by the end of the story every survivor will have been shot…sorry.

But I wanted to address the issue of school violence. I know most people probably can relate, if you can't then you probably can't relate to any of my chapters – because they're basically centered around the outsiders. I don't do that on purpose, but I have to write what I know, y'know?

I'm not promoting gun violence in any way, this story is about – hey, bring a gun to school and people will take notice of you and how they treat you. Because they won't. Scream all you want and people will still ignore and still walk all over you. It doesn't help, and I know that seems terrible, but the truth usually isn't a happy one.

I'm saying that I'm proud of my last chapter because I felt that I hit all the major points of how outsiders feel, and how they in turn react when they are being held hostage by an outsider. I tried to establish why I think people make fun of people, and why people bring guns to school. I know it's touchy, but please, send reviews – tell me what you think of being bullied and whatever. I like analyzing people and I like hearing what they want to say.

That's about all I wanted to say and my class is almost over so…What is going to happen in the next chapter is going to be pretty deep and I don't want anyone to think that what Chad does is the only way out. I'm not saying talk to people, because this isn't the cosby show. I'm saying that if you feel like you're entrapped by life you should go to a counselor or whatever because that doesn't always help. I'm say you should always consider the positive because there's always the upside when there's a down side. Always look up when you're feeling down.

Enjoy the next chapters, and give advice because I don't know what to do when I'm done with the school shooting. Review, people! Thanks for reading and I love it when people review my stories like they're critics. No offense, but y'know, how they comment on my technique and stuff, I really like it. And I haven't been flamed yet – out of like over a hundred reviews. That's gotta be good right?

Remember – always look up when you're feeling down, and come to me when you want philosophical messages…


	34. Comfort

Author's note - this is short -- so I'm posting it a day early, tomorrow, on national pot day - I'll post another chapter. I just felt like I needed a chapter brake - kinda like a commercial break, to further the plot. So I lied - what happens in this chapter won't impact you at all. It's basically Beaver/Taylor. I don't know why I feel like they're relationship should progress faster than Jackson/Melissa. I think both Jackson and Melissa would like to take things slow and debate their feelings for eachother. But this whole panic fiasco - it brings people closer together. The next chapter is the conclusion to this whole ordeal - and after that is the recovery. That's all I have right now. But enjoy this little bit right here.

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"This can't go on forever," Nathan said. "When are you gonna just give it up?"

"When more of them are dead," Chad answered.

"Look, you shot Eric, alright?" Nathan said, gesturing to Eric, who was still lying on the ground, his eyes drifting close slowly and quickly fluttering open. Melissa had insisted on keeping Eric awake, unsure of how bad the injury had to be for sleep or unconsciousness to be fatal. Eric was now gripping his arm tightly, trying to stop the blood flow, but still his grip would slacken when his eyes closed; everytime his eyes snapped open they'd be accompanied by a grimace of pain.

"That's not enough," Chad said, pacing back and forth once more in front of the teacher's desk. "Shooting isn't going to make them feel how I felt; how we felt."

"So let everybody else go," Jackson suggested. "There's no reason to torture those that know what you're going through, right? It's not like you're planning on shooting them...oh wait, you've already done that, haven't you?"

"Shut up," Chad shouted, waving his gun toward Jackson. "You can't talk to me like that!"

Jackson shrugged, rising to his feet. Melissa, albet still in shock, Marshal's blood already crusted around her hands, tried to get him to sit back down but Jackson brushed her hands away and strode forward. "We are hostages," he told Chad, and then gestured to the half empty classroom. "Why don't you tell me how many kids in here actually made your life worst?" Jackson leaned forward but Chad remained silent. "Right. So why are you in here and not out there?"

"I-I" Chad stuttered but he had no real answer.

"You're scared," Jackson told him. "We know that, but we're scared too. You've just shot two innocent bystanders. How many bullies did you shoot? How many bullies do you plan on shooting in this room?"

"You can't talk to me like this," Chad shouted at Jackson. "You're not supposed to talk to me like this..."

"You haven't killed anyone," Nathan said, standing too. "Give it up and you won't get life in jail. Bullying is a very serious matter, maybe they'll understand..."

"Give me the gun," Jackson said.

"No," Chad said, moving forward quickly, hitting Jackson in the face with the butt of his gun. Jackson hadn't prepared himself for when Chad would get violent, and he reeled back, stunned; wiping at his bloody nose. "Now sit back down," Chad said to Jackson before throwing a look at Nathan.

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"Are you okay, Beeve?" Taylor asked, glancing up at Beaver's face. They were laying on the table, their legs over the side. Even though the buzz of police talk was all around them everything seemed so quiet, almost peaceful.

"Yeah," Beaver rasped. His breathing had become heavier, difficult. He lifted a hand to his chest, laying it heavily beside Taylor's face. "No," he gasped.

"Is it...is it your asthma?" Taylor asked quietly, lifting her head from his chest, and pushing herself into a sitting position. "Beaver, tell me. What's happening?"

"I'm sorry," Beaver gasped, struggling to sit. Taylor helped him, gripping his arm tightly enough to hurt. "I tried not to think about it but..." he paused trying desperately to control his breathing. "I get--"

"Shhh," Taylor interrupted. "You don't have to explain," she told him softly. "It's okay, Beeve," she said, rummaging through her purse.

"What are you doing?" Beaver gasped.

Taylor pulled an inhaler from her purse triumphantly. "Jackson gave me the inhaler you'd left at his house. He said you'll need it sooner or later." She held it to Beaver's mouth and Beaver took it in his own hand, puffing at it hungrily.

Slowly his breathing relaxed. "We could've stopped this," Beaver muttered, grasping the inhaler hard in his hands.

Taylor took his hands in her own hands, gently prying the inhaler from his trembling fingers and setting it onto the table. She held his hands tightly, taking in his trembling. "You can't blame yourself, Beaver. You don't even know this kid."

"No," Beaver said, basking in the warmth of Taylor's hands, the strength that he found there. "I bumped into him before all of this," he mumbled, looking away from her. "I felt the gun, I didn't do anything."

Taylor was stroking his hands with her thumbs, a gentle soothing motion that Beaver could vaguely remember his mother doing before she'd been fired and spent their life insurance on booze to will away her current status; but his hands didn't stop shaking. She tightened her grip on one hand, raising her other hand to stroke his cheek, gently ushering him to look back at her. "Nobody blames you," she murmured, pulling him forward into a tight embrace.

"I do," Beaver mumbled against her shoulder.


	35. Darkness

Author's note - the italizied is from one tree hill. I hope this chapter really hits the right spot for people. I tried to lengthen the chapter -- but it's still kinda short. Not as short as the last one. I just wanted to wrap up everything - because you can't keep playing it out. I feel that I've exhausted everything I can with this issue and this is the conclusion. Please don't hate me but I think I like the ending quite a bit. So, enjoy, and give advice for future chapters because I've only gotten the next one written and after that, it could be days before a new chapter. So, enjoy this chapter.

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"A total of twenty five students are now trapped inside of the school," a local reporter said into the camera. "The school is currently on lock down and the gun man has been identified. He is fifteen years old and his name is Chad Bueick."

"They sure aren't doing him any justice," Taylor murmured, laying back on the table.

Beaver nodded. "An attack is an attack, Taylor," he muttered. "No matter how bias you are toward it. He's gonna go to jail." Beaver hesitated. "It doesn't matter how the TV talks about him, he's going to die today."

"What?" Taylor asked, glancing over at Beaver. "Where's your crystal ball, Beaver?"

Beaver shrugged. "Very few shooters are arrested," Beaver murmured.

"What happens to them?" Taylor asked, staring hard at Beaver.

Beaver glanced over at her, the beginnings of a sad smile gracing his lips before evaporating. "They do what they feel like they have to do - to achieve happiness. They can't go on living, Taylor. I know you don't know how it feels, to be completely alone and then some, but...it's this lonliness, something like nothing ever distinguished before. The feeling of complete isolation, like nothing you do ever amounts to anything; like nothing you put forth ever leaves an imprint on this earth, on these people...I dunno, it's just...sometimes it seems like it'd be better to just...die, I guess."

Taylor was still staring at Beaver but he looked away from her. "Everybody's the same, Beaver," she told him quietly. "To poeple, people like you, the rich kids seem to have a lot. But if you take away all of the money, what else is left?"

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Jackson edged forward, his eyes focused hard on Chad. Melissa had only seen Jackson like this before when Jackson had been in Rodney's pressence. Sometimes there's things only family members can extract from you. But now Jackson was eyeing Chad and Chad was eyeing Jackson right back. "You don't want to do what you're about to do, man."

_Does this darkness have a name? This cruelty, this hatred?_

Jackson lunged forward, quicker than Melissa had ever seen him move before. Chad lurched back, almost prepared for this exact action. Jackson hit Chad hard, using his force to drive him backwards, right into the chalkboard. There was little struggle between, both unwilling to move first and lose the upperhand on each other. Chad moved first, removing his hands that were pressed hard against Jackson's chest, and shifted to the side slightly. He hit Jackson hard in the face even though Jackson tried to dodge it.

Jackson shifted back slightly, unaware of the movement behind him as the class formed a loose circle around them. Chad had brought the gun up, but Jackson gripped his hand tightly with desperate fingers, and the struggle between them erupted once more. Chad brought his hand down to the gun and gripped Jackson's hand tightly, surprised when he received a sharp yelp from the unharmed boy.

_Did it steal into our lives or did we seek it out and embrace it?_

Jackson lurched back quickly, hot tears jumping to his eyes. He could dimly remember how the bullet felt, breaking his skin and lodging it self within his flesh, but this pain somehow seemed worst. Rodney had shot him in the hand and the doctors all claimed he healed remarkably well - but he wasn't healed completely. He still experienced the dull throbbing that sometimes captured his hand. But now he was sure Chad had broken something inside of him.

_What happened to us?_

"Stupid moron," Chad shouted, taking advantage of Jackson's distraction and hitting him hard in the jaw with the butt of the gun once more. "I was gonna let you all go! I was going to let everyone live! You stupid stupid child!"

_That we now send our children into the world like we send young men to war;_

Jackson stumbled back more, cradling his vulnerable hand in a loose grasp, watching Chad with weary eyes. "What are you gonna do, Chad?" Jackson asked, his voice distorted slightly. Melissa couldn't quite place the emotions that surfaced in his voice, or the emotions that she was sure was clear as day to Chad, reflecting in his eyes.

_hoping for their safe return._

"I was trying to help you," Chad reasoned softly.

"Chad, don't do it," Melissa said, trying to step forward, but flinched back at the same time as Chad's angry eyes flashed toward Melissa.

_But knowing that some will be lost along the way._

"Stay out of this, Melissa," Chad told her, his voice betraying the anger that his eyes and heavy gaze only hinted at.

_When did we lose our way?_

Jackson, compelled by some deadly voice, whispering sweet nothings in his ears, lunged forward and Chad, unsure of what he exactly wanted to do, lunged forward simultaneously. They hit each other hard, Jackson instinctively holding his arm tightly against his body. Chad's weight over powered Jackson and forced him back; forcing them both to lose their balance and fall hard to the always moving Earth.

_Consumed by the shadows, swallowed whole by the darkness._

Jackson couldn't recall when Chad had dropped the gun or exactly why he now extended his arm toward it. He couldn't say why Chad never managed to stop him even though it felt like hours before Jackson's fingers wrapped around the gun's heavy exterior. Jackson couldn't remember Chad throwing a punch but he lunged his arm forward, hitting Chad hard in the chest with the barrell of the gun.

Chad was unaffected by the underlying strength and force that Jackson had unconsciously put behind the hit. Jackson was unaware of his fingers tightening around the grip and his finger inching down slightly, pulling back on the trigger. Chad's hands were around his neck but he didn't feel it. He didn't feel the struggle that his lungs were force to indulge in, and he didn't see the black dots appear at the edges of his vision. Further more, he didn't feel the impact of the gun, or the recoil that ran roughly down his arm. He didn't see Chad's body fly off of him, and he didn't see the blood smeer across the wall. He didn't hear the loud bang that the other students had to cover their ears to bare. And he didn't hear Melissa's gasp and sob that filled the suddenly silence room. Jackson wasn't there, he had passed out before the bullet had entered Chad's body and before Chad's life had come to a utterly complete stop. He had been graced with the darkness that he used to fear, the darkness that he had once been forced to embrace.

_Does this darkness have a name?_

_Is it your name?_


	36. Alone

Author's note - there's no Daley, Nathan or Lex in this. Sorry, but I can only focus on certain people at certain times - and I wanted to address those that were hit the hardest. I promise you'll see Daley, Nathan and Lex's reaction in the next chapter tho. So, enjoy this - not a lot happens but this is the next day.

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Jackson felt the pain before the clearity of consciousness forced the unusually conforting darkness away. The groan rose from somewhere low within his body and forced his lips apart. Melissa waited for jackson's eyes to open and slowly cover the span of the room before settling on Melissa's concerned face, before she moved forward, much closer to the bed.

"Are you okay?" The question, asked far too early, hung heavy in the air between them, like a discarded greeting to the deceased. Jackson let his eyes loll to the side, shifting away from Melissa's face. "Jackson?" Melissa asked uncertainly. "Does something hurt?" Melissa paused, providing the efficient amount of time for Jackson to offer an adequate answer. "Please, Jackson," Melissa pleaded.

Something changed in Jackson's empty gaze. His eyes shifted again, finding Melissa's tearful gaze once more. He opened his mouth to tell her so many things - he was fine and he missed her. He wanted to close the gap between them, once and for all. He wanted to integrate her into himself - into his being. But all that escaped his mouth was a raspy cough.

Melissa waited patiently, relunctantly sitting back in the uncomfortable chair and fixing Jackson with a retired gaze. "My head hurts," he croaked, gazing tiredly at Melissa. "My hand's..."

"Broken," Melissa agreed. "You have a concussion, Jackson," she told him quietly, but he could hear the touches of concern that layered her voice. "You hit your head when you fell."

"I shot him," Jackson groaned, shifting uncomfortably under the excruciatingly tight blanket.

"Yeah, it was pretty bad," Melissa agreed.

"He was your friend," Jackson mumbled, his eyes shifting away from Melissa's once more. "I didn't mean to shoot him, Mel..."

"I know, Jackson," Melissa told him comfortingly. "He wouldn't have been able to live with himself -- after what he'd done. He wouldn't have given himself up to the cops, Jackson."

"I know," Jackson murmured, his voice quiet - resigned. "I knew that then too, Mel. I should've just let him be...he wouldn't have hurt anyone else, Mel. I shouldn't have gone after him."

"You did what you thought was best, Jackson," Melissa told him.

"I know you're upset," he said, his anger absent in his calm voice. "I killed your friend, Mel. I killed him."

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"Why are you here?" Eric croaked as his eyes focused on Beaver's face.

Beaver shrugged, sinking lower in the chair. He kicked his feet up onto Eric's bed and gazed evenly at the injured boy. "Somebody has to be, right? And since nobody likes you..."

"I don't need your criticism," Eric snapped, turning his head away from Beaver.

"You really did a number on that kid, huh," Beaver murmured, ignoring Eric's earlier comment. Eric chose to remain quiet. "What'd you do to him?"

Eric shrugged. "How should I know?"

"Everybody has a reason," Beaver said. "Why did people hate him?"

"Everybody has their own reasons," Eric murmured.

"Why did he hate you?" Beaver pressed.

"Why do you care?" Eric asked.

Beaver was quiet for a moment. "You need to tell somebody, Eric. Don't you think it'd be better to tell somebody that never really liked you in the first place."

"Why would I need to tell somebody?" Eric asked.

"Because if you don't get rid of all that hatred and guilt that's ripping apart your gut right now, you'll go mad," Beaver told him. "People almost died for you Eric -- don't you think you owe somebody the truth?"

"And that somebody's you?" Eric asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "Little bitty Beaver that nobody really knows. He's always sticking his nose in things that he shouldn't. I wouldn't tell you anything," Eric told him angrily.

Beaver nodded and straightened up in the chair. "I just thought nobody should be alone, in the place you're in." He solemnly rose to his feet. "Guess some people deserve it." Beaver turned and silently left the room, Eric watching his residing figure.

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Marshal returned to conscious with a loud gasp of pain. Taylor straightened up in the chair she had been curled in for the last three hours. She inched forward until she sat on the edge of the chair, gazing eagerly at Marshal's pale face. The makings of a smile touched his lips slightly when his eyes found hers. "You don't have to be here," he moaned.

"Are you okay?" Taylor asked, leaning forward slightly.

"No," Marshal groaned. "It hurts...everywhere."

Taylor nodded. "Where's you family, your friends? Why isn't anybody here for you?"

Taylor could see something changing in Marshal's eyes, some fleeting emotion that she couldn't quite pin. "My family won't come. And I don't have any friends to speak of, Taylor."

"You have no friends?" Taylor asked, dumbfounded.

Marshal would've shooken his head but it hurt too much to move. "No," he answered softly.

"I'm so sorry," Taylor murmured sadly.

A sadistic smile split Marshal's pasty face, showing white teeth that blended in nicely with his pale face. "It's not your fault Taylor, there's no point in apologizing. I'm just an unpleasant person."

"You're a hero, Marshal," Taylor insisted. "How can people be so stupid? You're a hero."


	37. Interrogation

Author's note - I lied, daley and lex still aren't here, but I did show a bit of Nathan's reactiong...and! you find out what Eric did that was so wrong to Chad. So enjoy.

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"Cody Jackson?" Jackson glanced up from the black spot on his bed sheets to gaze evenly at the two federal men standing in his doorway. "We have a few questions for you," a blond haired man said, taking the initiative and entering the room fully. Jackson shifted slightly in his bed, somehow managing to sit up. "It'll only take a few minutes."

"Alright," Jackson offered. "What do you want to know?"

"This is your second violent offense," the second man, a shorter man with a crew cut, said, as he joined his partner beside Jackson's bed. "You are aware of your probation regulations, correct?"

Jackson nodded. "Yeah, but, it wasn't my fault this time," Jackson said quickly.

"You have violated the law twice, Mr. Jackson," the man with the crew cut said. "One more time and we will be forced to take you to court."

"I thought you said you had questions," Jackson stated evenly.

"We do," the blonde man said. "We would like to question you about Mr. Bueick's untimely death. The other witnesses say that your instigated the fight?"

"I guess so," Jackson admitted. "He had a gun, deadly force right? What would you have done?"

"What any one else would have done is not in question right now," the crew cut man said. Jackson couldn't help noticing that their professional voices of reasoning was slowly beginning to disintegrate. "Why did you attack the boy?"

"I just told you," Jackson said, struggling to sit up further with the aid of one hand. "He had a gun. I was a hostage. Attacking the shooter is just kinda something hostages do. Am I imagining this or do you really sound like you're about to defend him?"

"It is unwise to infere our reactions to this child's death, Mr. Jackson," the blonde man said.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch you names," Jackson said calmly.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the blonde one said. "I'm Calvin Leuwick and this is my partner Martin Filski."

"Do I need my lawyer for these questions of yours?" Jackson asked. He'd grown up watching the fairly fictional disputes that seemed to solve themselves in court. He knew if he was to questioned by law he did need a lawyer, last time he had needed a lawyer too. That lawyer wasn't good enough to keep him out of Juvi hall though. This time he could quite possibly go to jail.

"No," Calvin said. "We're just asking questions, you are not a suspect, you are not underarrest and you will not be booked. Lawyers are trivial."

"A suspect for what?" Jackson asked.

"We believe Mr. Bueick may have been under the influence the other day at your school. His death may be a homicide."

"You mean intentional murder, right?" Jackson asked. "Because it wasn't a homicide, it was probable cause for self defense."

"Have you been brushing up on your legal terms, Mr. Jackson?" Martin asked, but Jackson didn't like the teasing tone that presented itself in his voice.

"No," Jackson lied.

"Right," Martin drawled. "Do you know anyone that would want to drug your friend?"

"Besides every one?" Jackson asked. "No."

"You are being very resistent, Mr. Jackson," Martin murmured, as though he had almost anticipated Jackson's response.

"Dude, I know you know he was a victim of bullying. Nobody liked him, Mr. Filski. I didn't know him, I didn't know who hated him. Why are you asking me these questions?"

"Do you think that Mr. McGorill would have a motive to intoxicate Mr. Bueick?" Martin asked.

"I think primarily using surnames is ultimately confusing," Jackson stated.

"Answer the question," Martin pressed.

"No, I don't think Eric has a motive," Jackson snapped. "He's been isolated on an island for two months -- he's been back in school for two weeks, man. Why would he have a motive?"

"Sources have revealed they used to be friends," Calvin said.

"Yeah," Jackson agreed. "Melissa used to be his friend, that other kid that he shot used to be his friends. Friends don't have motives."

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Melissa was pacing the span of the somewhat small hospital room. "Dude, calm down," Beaver said from the chair that he was seated in. They had taken refuge in Marshal's hospital room when the feds had told them to leave Jackson's room. Taylor remained in the seat she had been in for the past twelve hours and Marshal kept drifting in and out of sleep.

"What if they do something to him," Melissa asked worriedly, edgy.

"Right," Beaver drawled. "What if they beat him to death -- or worst, kidnap him!"

Melissa glanced over at Beaver. "There's things they can do to him," Melissa snapped.

Beaver nodded. "Yeah, since he violated his probation."

"What are we gonna do?" Melissa asked.

"Here's a better question - what can we do?" Beaver murmured, slouching down in the chair and kicking his feet up on Marshal's bed.

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Nathan had been unsure of what exactly to do once he'd gone home that fatal day. His mother had insisted on him seeing a psychiatrist, like he wasn't already sure of how he felt. Now Nathan sat uncomfortably on the psychiatrist's leather couch. "So tell me how you're feeling," Dr. Brennan asked. They had insisted that Nathan see the same Doctor because then she'd already know about him, she'd already have enough information that he wouldn't have to elborate about his past and other unhappy memories.

"I just saw a class mate get killed," Nathan mumbled. "How else am I supposed to feel?"

"How do you feel about the prior events?" Dr. Brennan elaborated. "How are you digesting your class mate's reaction to bullying? How are you digesting your fellow classmate's demise?"

"I don't know," Nathan said. "I'm pretty sure I'm not the only one that needs counceling. Shouldn't Jackson be here too? I mean...he kinda killed a kid..."

"Side stepping questions mean you don't like the answer you have," Dr. Brennan pointed out. "You grew up with this nice, caring kid - Chad, and when you get into high school he's not as popular as he should be - judging by his big heart. But you drift from him, and his friends disperse, and everyone unintentionally leaves this poor caring kid alone. What do you think bullies will do to him? Eat him alive, right - because he actually cares. Are you surprised he finally broke?"

"I'm surprised he shot Eric," Nathan admitted. "You don't know their history," he added. "They used to be as close as brothers."

"Sometimes brothers cause rifts between themselves," Dr. Brennan said.

"I know that," Nathan said. "I have brothers. But I'd never do to any of them what Eric did to him."

"What did Eric do to Chad?" Dr. Brennan asked.

"He set him up," Nathan said. "It was very Carrie Rage. They used to crash dances -- Eric used to embrace his unpopularity. They'd go to dances and make this whole mockery of it, sometimes they'd actually make people feel stupid for ever buying into the whole scene. But I don't know what happened between then and the night of this huge eighth grade dance, but Eric changed. He still went to the dance, in his street clothes, with Chad. But suddenly Chad was this huge outsider, and he just stood there, as Eric made fun of him. People joined in, because...they were thirteen. And when Melissa tried to defend him, Eric made fun of her too. And Marshal. They were relentless and then there was this huge finale. They'd gotten Chad alone - when he'd tried to leave and totally dumped a huge vat of tar on him. Eric tarred and feathered Chad, Doctor."

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	38. Change

Author's note - My counselor wants me to get counseling...Irony, but in my story I always figured it's what the characters need. You experience traumatic events they talk to you because they think that's what you need - to talk it all out. When you talk to your parents about traumatic shit it's like you're talking to a wall. They just don't want to admit that maybe there's something wrong with their child. It's not healthy. And I have a rather abrupt case of insomnia (and constipation if you guys really need to know that) so I figured I'd work on flight 29 down since nobody reads any of my other stories. And! My last prom is tonight. Yay...I'm so happy. And I've already completed the next chapter, yet ironically it's pretty depressing. I'm sorry if I'm focusing so much on Jackson and Beaver and not the actual cast. I am REALLY trying hard to work toward Jackson and Melissa, I'm just not sure how yet. But keeping reading, keep reviewing. It's kinda my life. Except for tonight, of course. Yay...

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"What happened to you?" Jackson asked. He'd been unusually sleep lately, probably a side affect of the drugs the nurses kept slipping him. He'd complained about pain in his hand once and now they wouldn't let it go. Beaver had slipped back into Jackson's room sometime while he had been asleep, and now Beaver as sunken down in the chair. His face was pale compared to usual and there were deep purple bags under his eyes. "Dude, you didn't look this worried last time I was here," Jackson commented.

"I'm not worried," Beaver murmured nonchalantly.

"Of course not. Who said you were worried?" Jackson was grinning but his friend didn't return the gesture. "What's the matter, Beaver?"

"I don't have a problem," Beaver answered.

"Insomnia," Jackson stated. Beaver had been a very sick child, the sickest Jackson had ever known. Most people have defense mechanisms, it's the only thing that keeps humans alive. It's your brain's response to anxiety and overwhelming pressure. But defense mechanisms are second-hand split decisions and usually dangerous, yet common. Beaver's main mechanism was creating more problems. The problems that clouded his mind usually appeared in a physical form within the week of the stimulation of the problem. Insomnia was his most common, which he was lucky for - because compared to other symptons, insomnia was fairly harmless.

"It's common," Beaver murmured.

"Yeah, whatever," Jackson said. "What's happening to you? Since when do you not talk to me?"

"Don't make this about you, Jackson," Beaver murmured.

Jackson shrugged. "I wasn't gonna. Which you know. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I told you, dude," Beaver snapped. "Nothing."

Jackson stared hard at Beaver's downcast face before looking away. "Whatever." That's when Beaver chose to look up.

"I think I messed up, Jackson," he mumbled. "I think I messed up bad."

"What'd you do?" Jackson asked. It wasn't an accusing question. Jackson found that he rarely accused somebody of something. If you didn't accuse them, they didn't get defensive.

"I made a deal with your brother," he mumbled, barely audible.

Jackson blinked, assuming he'd heard Beaver wrong. "Say that again, Beaver."

"I made a death deal with Rodney," Beaver said, quietly yet louder than before. "I didn't mean to. And I don't want to dump it on you right now - with the condition you're in..."

"You made a deal last time I was in the hospital too, Beeve, and I was worst off," Jackson commented. Beaver and Rodney had established an unusual relationship. Rodney owned a little chunk of his own turf that his own gang scoured like hawks, and everytime Beaver entered that certain turf they went after him like wild animals. His only way out was favors. The favors weren't sickening, nothing sexual, nothing like that. They were just demeaning. That's how Rodney processed - he humiliated people. Right after Jackson had shot his father and his father had damn near beat him to death, Beaver had been jumped because he was out of his territory. Rodney was pissed, and almost let Beaver alone with his gang. That's when Beaver had established a deal. And that deal refused to die.

"I know," Beaver said quietly. "But it's getting worst, Jackson."

"I know it is," Jackson said quietly. "Rodney's worst." The silence overshadowed the room, refusing to go away. "What does he want you to do."

"A fucking robbery," Beaver said. "I mean -- a buglery. He was very specific. The punishment's the same, though. Isn't it? I can't rob somebody, Jackson."

Jackson cocked an eyebrow. "You were a theif like two years ago, Beaver."

"I'm aware," Beaver said quickly. "It's like this adrenaline rush, Jackson. It feels nice. And I walked away from it again. I don't think I'm gonna be able to tempt it like that, Jackson. I don't want to be who I was. I don't want to rob anybody any more."

Jackson was nodded, stopping slightly to prevent the oncoming dizziness. "I'll talk to Rodney."

Beaver didn't allow himself the relief that was inching around the edges of his conscious state of mind. "It's a dangerous job. He thinks that if he pulls off this job then there'll be no more doubts in his gang. He's not gonna be able to pull it off."

"What job?" Jackson asked.

"Tyron," Beaver mumbled. "He's supposed to be on vacation or something." They both had ran into Tyron often when they were younger. They both lived in Tyron's district of business and everytime they screwed up it came down on Tyron - and he'd straighten them out. But compared to Rodney, Tyron was reasonable but deadly.

"He'll kill him," Jackson said.

"I told Rodney that but he doesn't want to back out now. He's a fucking idiot," Beaver murmured. "I can't rob Tyron, man."

Beaver had looked away from Jackson but Jackson was still staring at him when he looked back up. "You're a good theif, Beeve," he murmured. The truth was, Beaver was exceptional. Despite his asthma, he was unusually quick and nimble. He had master the arts of lock picking and pick pocketing at a young age thanks to older orphans who had to learn how to survive on their own. Beaver was a reasonable person who knew how to think quick on the spot. "I'll talk to Rodney, okay. I'll get you out of this. You know you can trust me, Beeve."

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Daley sat down on her bed, brushing the stray curls away from her face. They had kept video diaries for two whole months and she'd actually began to like it. When you write you don't capture the intense emotions that go into every thought out word. She had decided to capture her own emotions by setting up her own camera. "It's been three days," Daley said into the camera. "I feel bad because I haven't been to the hospital, I haven't talken to any of the others. I just - I feel like I can't deal with it all right now. School has been canceled for the time being, and Lex is having night terrors. I don't know what to do. I mean, for so long all any of us wanted to do was get back here, get back to civilization. We were under the delusion that with all this help in today's society, everything would be okay. Back on the island something like this couldn't ever happen. Back on the island we were safe."

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"I brought food," Taylor chirped cheerfully as she entered Marshal's hospital room, holding a tray specifically for him. She set it down in front of him, after providing time for him to struggle into a sitting position. "How do you feel?"

"I don't feel guilty, unlike someone," Marshal murmured, eyeing Taylor. "Dude, really - I don't have to be a pity case. If you feel guilty, I get it. You used to be a bitch. But people don't change over night."

"Of course they don't," Taylor agreed. "Sometimes they change during the day too."

Marshal cracked a surprised smile. "You don't change in a day, Taylor. It takes time."

"No it doesn't," Taylor said. "Something happened - I am unhappy with the event and I am reacting to it by changing so completely I can never be the cause of something like that ever again."

"But you weren't the cause this time, Taylor," Marshal said.

"This time," Taylor repeated. "And I won't be the cause next time either. Why are you arguing with me? This is a good thing -- I was a bitch before."

"Can't argue there," Marshal agreed.

"You're awfully mean when you're not bleeding," Taylor commented.

Marshal nodded solemnly. "I'm sorry. But you were _really _mean before. I'm having trouble couping with this sudden...kindness. I appreciate it though. Kindness can never be a mistake, Taylor. Just remember that."


	39. Denied

Author's note - I am SO sorry about the lack of update for like a month. Sometimes I get like that. This is supremely Beaver and Jackson. I've been trying to work some Melissa in, but it's not working. Don't worry this is strictly Jackson/Melissa. It's just all of the repercussions center around Jackson and Beaver is more familiar there, more than Melissa. But Rodney returns in this chapter in flesh and blood. There will some angst in the future because I like angst. Sorry. Beaver is having some problems and they need resolutions, and he's an angsty person. I love him. But yes, enjoy. It's sad and Beaver and Jackson are the only people in this chapter. Sorry.

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"It's fine,' Jackson told the nurse quietly, but the nurse still tilted her head to the side, like maybe she didn't trust his at all. He stared hard at Jackson's hand, which she'd been hold. And then she shifted her hand and her thumb grazed across the span of Jackson's hand. Jackson flinched back and then frowned. He hadn't meant to do that and it pissed him off. "Okay, it hurts...a little."

The nurse chuckled softly. "Doctor Mahone isn't sure why your hand is healing so slowly now. It is quite possible that the first time your hand hadn't healed at all. It just showed the symptons of healing. What happened to you unstitched what little healing your hand had accomplished."

"It was one bullet," Jackson told her. "It couldn't have ruined my hand."

The nurse shook her head. "Yes, it could have. But it didn't. The pains that you feel when you put pressure on specific parts of your hand will eventually subside, given appropriate time. I won't lie to you, Mr. Jackson -- it will require a lot of waiting. There is no necessary training you'll have to undergo but you must wait until your hand heals." Jackson nodded, gingerly withdrawing his hand from the nurse. "And I must address the other marks on your body..."

Jackson jerked his head up. "It's not abuse or anything like that."

The nurse nodded. "Your friend explained your different situation. She told us what happened, with you and the island. But all those marks did happen on an uncivilized island, your cuts very well may have infections."

"What happens when the infections go untreated?" Jackson asked.

The nurse shook her head in a sort of shrugging motion. "It depends on the type of infection. Sometimes the infection will be treated by your own antibodies, but sometimes the infection may lead to death or other abnormalties within the body."

"So fix it," Jackson told her.

The nurse nodded. "I'll alert Dr. Mahone," she murmured and left the room.

The soft knock from the door drew Jackson's eyes away from the solitary tile to his right. Beaver was slouched against the open door, staring at Jackson with sad eyes. "Things are changing too rapidly," he murmured but he didn't enter the room.

Jackson couldn't recall the specific look on Beaver's face being anywhere near familiar to him. Jackson shook his head slowly, trying to avoid the numerous onsets of nausea. "That's what happens when you become an active part of other peoples' lives."

""I wished this never happened," Beaver said quietly, cross his arms tightly across his chest.

"It's not healthy to fear change, Beeve," Jackson murmured darkly. He had feared change for so long; his fear slowly boiling down to simmering, yet distinguished hatred. He knew that the repercussions of ignorant fear was too numerous to risk.

"I don't fear it, Jackson," Beaver murmured darkly. "I hate it."

"Why?" Jackson asked, eyeing Beaver; gazing evenly at his best friend;s eyes, even though the eyes were diverted. "Why can't you just tell me?"

Beaver shook his head, his eyes securely locked onto a stained tile that lay a few feet in front of him. "I don't know," he answered sorrowfully. "It's not fear...you know it's not shame, Jackson. I can't explain it...I just...I can't bear to tell you. Not yet."

"I'll wait," Jackson offered quietly.

Beaver quietly cleared his throat, mindlessly massagng a particular stitch in his chest; trying to swallow the suddenly large lump in his throat. He could distinctly identify the burning sensation in the back of his throat that notified him of his own mental state. "I know," he said quietly, surprised at the lack of emotion in his voice. "I just don't know how long you'll be here to wait. The world's not safe...it probably never was but...out of all our years together I never...I've never felt fear like this before, Jackson. It's killing me."

Jackson straightened up further in the uncomfortable bed, squinting across the room as he considered the fact that this dear friend of his - Cassidy Casablancas - could actually be crying. "C'mere Beaver."

Beaver didn't shake his head or discline Jackson's informal request; he merely strode forward. His posture had changed, sagging beneath the recently formed fear that was crushing his soul, his body. His thin chest was breathing heavily but there was no pant to his shallow breath. His fragile shoulders sagged, as though physical force had somehow accumulated on tope of them - forcing them closer to the ground beneath his miscalculated steps. His walk was a lot straighter than it had ever been before, suddenly unconcerned with the little surprises of life - suddenly in a hurry to be finished. Yet it took at least a minute for Beaver to cross the room.

Beaver stopped beside Jackson's bed and they stared at each other for a minute; Beaver's trembling hands burried deep in his pockets and Jackson's bruised hands laying limp in his lap. Beaver didn't say anything and Jackson didn't feel the obligation to make shallow comments on their current situations. Until a glitch forced itself across Beaver's normally calm face. His demeaner suddenly crumbled, and the angry tears forced themselves to his dark eyes.

Jackson had seen tears fall from Beaver's generally innocent eyes before; when they'd been sentenced to ten months in the local juvinile detention facility; when Beaver had lost a fight in that very same juvinile facility less than a month later (and still ended up in solitary); when Beaver was sure Jackson was on the verge of death after his father had beaten him badly; bad enough to need a blood transfusion. Beaver hadn't ever been shallow enough to fear the humiliation of well deserved tears, and this time was no different. Beaver had attempted to prolong this passing occurance, until maybe he was out of Jackson's room, but now that it was already here, Beaver didn't rush to wipe away the times or bury his face. He just stood there as they rippled down his face, his tired eyes growing red.

Jackson reached out to Beaver with his untainted hand and pulled the younger boy into a rough hug. He leaned back so that Beaver was forced onto the hospital bed, the younger child's knees supporting him, discomfort slowly reaching the uncomplaining boy. Jackson wrapped his arms around Beaver's trembling form, and Beaver clumsily returned the hug, the tears of his diminishing anger soaking through Jackson's thin hospital gown.

The deep clearing of a throat riffled through the room and Jackson and Beaver pulled apart, both turning toward the door. Rodney nodded toward each in turn and Beaver began to sponge his tears away with the back of his hand, his other hand uncharacteristically still clutching the back of Jackson's gown in a grip that turned his knuckles white. "What are you here for?" Beaver asked quietly, his voice distorted from the aftermath of crying.

"I heard my little brother was in the hospital," Rodney said, eyeing Jackson. "Again."

"So?" Jackson asked defensively.

"Don't be like that," Rodney murmured.

"Why are you here?" Beaver repeated, his voice steadier. When Jackson glanced to the side he noticed that Beaver's death grip had fallen away from his gown and Beaver was now standing beside his bed. Jackson glanced from Beaver's pale face to Rodney.

""I want a truce," Rodney murmured.

"Why?" Jackson asked.

"It's getting out of hand," Rodney said.

"And I don't have your money anymore," Jackson commented.

"You and I both know that that money isn't all you've taken from me, Cody," Rodney snapped.

"You remember when I was thirteen," Jackson asked suddenly. "And I wanted to go to the last dance of junior high school. And I worked for three months to save up enough money for the ticket and cab. And I even asked the right girl to go with me. And everything was set. And then you went and told dad exactly what I had in mind. And he hit me so hard I couldn't muster the energy to even care about the dance when the night had come. And then the next day I find you with her, the girl I had been fantasizing about for the previous three years. You started dating her, Rodney. And you took every first from her. Do you think that's any less important to me than your stupid money was to you?" Jackson asked bitterly. "You did that every time I ever even thought about dating."

"You know I'm sorry about that," Rodney told him quietly.

"Except you're not Rodney," Jackson argued. "There won't be a truce - not when you don't care about anything you've EVER done to me. You shot me!"

"Hey," Rodney snapped. "You shot me too."

Jackson shook his head and leaned back in the bed. "Get out," he said quietly.

Rodney shook his head in disbelief. "Alright. But when your little friends get hurt because they stumble into the wrong territory, just remember to tell them that it's your fault because you were busy being a stubborn prick."


	40. Freedom

Author's note - sorry for the delay. I've had a serious writer's block - not just this but I can't write at all, and it's pissing me off. But I owe you guys another chapter - I haven't abandoned this story - and now I hope you guys haven't either. I haven't updated any of my other stories either. I'm sorry, I'm just going through all of the plots and stuff in my head, and I'm trying to write - so hard. So if the writing in this chapter sucks - I'm SO sorry - it's just, it's been like two months. And if I don't update soon then the significance of this story and the commitment I once had to it will disintegrate, y'know. I don't want to give up on it. This is short. But it is Jackson/Melissa - and it sets up a tragedy and a heroism. The next chapter will be SOOOO much longer.

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Kissing. It is perhaps the first step into a real relationship. Holding hands, hugging - that's child's play. That's the type of shit you do with your friends...if you're a girl. Melissa didn't have those friends. She hadn't ever walked down the hall of school, hand in hand with another female who was so much closer to her. She didn't have friends like. She had Erik, and Nathan. And people knew her - they knew who she was, they just weren't interested in meeting her; they didn't care for her.

Jackson cared. Melissa couldn't have imagined herself with anybody - especially not somebody quite so attractive, so caring yet hard as nails. Melissa kissed Jackson again. Jackson had initiated the kissing - he initiated the touching, and the physical side of the relationship, but now Melissa was done with being so overwhelmed. Jackson liked her, and he proceeded to kiss her - it wasn't the end of the world. 

She kissed him again. "Are you okay?" Jackson asked her when she pulled away.

Melissa shrugged. "I know I'm a sophomore but - I'm totally inexperienced, Jackson. I've never kissed anybody before you, and nobody's ever held me like you. There's so much I want to do before..." Before what? Melissa hesitated; she didn't want to put Jackson off. How could she possible proceed to live and still be so freaking pessimistic?

"Before what?" Jackson asked her.

Melissa didn't answer. What could she possible say that would somehow convince Jackson. How could she lie to him? How could she _ever _lie to him? He was so calm, so collected - he seemed capable of seeing past some dumb lie. "Jackson," Melissa began quietly, somewhat withdrawing from him.

"I won't break up with you, Melissa," Jackson told her, grinning slowly. "Not if you don't break up with me. This isn't some charade. We're dating. It's how it is. Are you okay with that?"

Melissa smiled. It was a sheepish smile, but she couldn't stop it. She couldn't stop smiling. She was dating somebody - not just somebody, but a boy, a real - live, breathing boy. Sure, he was troubled and abused, but he was alive, and that's always a positive. He was Cody Jackson. She kissed him again.

"What's up, people!" Melissa and Jackson jerked apart at the intrusive voice. "I'm a freebird, man!" It was Eric.

"That's good to hear," Melissa responded cheerfully.

"Yeah," Jackson mumbled. "Why don't you go tell it to somebody else in a different room far far away?"

Eric frowned slightly. "Am I interrupting something?" He asked innocently.

"Always," Jackson told him. "Thanks though - do you have a purpose in here...other than to gloat?"

"Yes, actually," Eric answered, ignoring Jackson's hateful tone. "Do you know where Beaver is?" He asked.

Jackson raised an eyebrow. "Why?" he asked.

"I just want to talk to him," Eric answered nonchalantly. "Do you know where he is...where he's living? Where is that lil bugger living?"

"Lately," Melissa began -- "In the hospital. With his best friend who sacrificed himself, for you. But when he's not here, he could be at my house."

"That's lovely," Eric answered cheerfully. "I'll be back in a bit, to check up on you, okay, buddy?" Jackson frowned at the condescending tone.

"Okay, buddy," Melissa murmured when Eric had left. Jackson shook his head.


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